Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS: Ringfinger
by Skitty-Kat
Summary: Our Elf, as a James Bond style secret agent, goes under the orders of G head of the Middle Earth Secret Service to save the world. Action, adventure, torture and fights! First in the 'Agent of MESS' series.
1. The Secret Agent

Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of MESS  
  
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Disclaimer: Legolas Greenleaf and associated characters belong to JRR Tolkien. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig. The James Bond concept was created, or at least best used by Ian Fleming. A few odd characters and moments belong elsewhere.  
  
Author's notes: I have read of Legolas being described as an assassin. This led, on one dreary day, to the idea of him as a secret agent, very much in the way of James Bond. Of course, Greenleaf has a style quite of his own. Straight from Fleming is the practise of calling our hero by his surname (Bond in that case, Greenleaf in this), apart from in a few notable exceptions. Several of Bond's attitudes have made their way into this -and I'm talking about Bond from the books here- but I shall apologise for this later. Suffice it to say that James Bond has never heard of political correctness and would never subscribe to it. This is not a romance, though it is definitely an AU.  
  
This was originally going to be a comedy piece, but it wouldn't let itself be written like that. A couple of bits are hangovers from the original idea, such as the acronyms, but there are still a few laughs to be had. At least, I thought they were amusing.  
  
Enough notes; on with the story. Hope you enjoy it. Feedback is greatly appreciated, though flames are fed to Saruman's pet fish. Most of the story is actually already written, though not typed. I'll try to update it about twice a week.  
  
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The action-packed adventures of Legolas Greenleaf, secret agent, as he fights to save Middle Earth from the machinations of a magic-making mobster.  
  
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Chapter 1. The Secret Agent.  
  
The fragrance and flowers and fermentations of the Rivendell halls are nauseating at three in the morning. There are times when even the most ardent and experienced pleasure seeker becomes weary, sick to his soul of the endless trivialities. He must escape this, but his duty bids him stay.  
  
Legolas Greenleaf knew he was approaching this point. The delicate wine, a Lothlorien '82, now tasted bland in his knowledgeable mouth, its delicate bouquet grown tired on his palate. The night had been long, long enough for Greenleaf to wish he was elsewhere. But, mindful of his task, he continued to surreptitiously observe the fellow in front of him. Known as 'the White' for his colour of preference on the roulette, the wizard Saruman was visiting Rivendell, and taking the opportunity to sample the gambling tables. Various tokens lay before him -a few rings, necklaces and other jewellery- showing his skill at the game. He held his cards in his hand, concealing them from any watcher.  
  
Only one player still faced him. It was a hobbit, whose name Greenleaf vaguely remembered as Frodo Baggins, having been introduced to him at some tiresome drinks do a few nights before. Saruman was muttering something to the young hobbit, and Greenleaf casually moved closer to hear.  
  
"A ring in your possession," the wizard was saying, "which I would be greatly interested in."  
  
"I don't know," Frodo replied, fingering his cards nervously, "it was given to me by my uncle."  
  
"I would be willing to pay a fair price for it," Saruman said, then leaned forward and whispered something into the other's ear. The hobbit's eyes widened considerably.  
  
"I suppose I could let you see it," he said slowly, his greed awakening, "but I'd still have to ask Uncle Bilbo."  
  
"Of course," Saruman said charmingly, "but we shall finish our game first, yes?"  
  
Their game continued. Cards were picked up, then discarded or kept, neither face revealing any emotion either way. Finally, just when Greenleaf was beginning to feel tired, Saruman placed his hand on the table in a deliberate movement.  
  
"Tirith Flush," he declared.  
  
"Two pairs," Frodo admitted, laying his cards down also. He pushed a fine- looking bottle of ale across the table. "Good game."  
  
They left the hall after this and headed towards the hobbit's room. Greenleaf followed, being careful not to be seen by either. His feet made no sound on the stone floor, but he could follow the noise of the wizard's and the hobbit's. Reaching behind his back, he pulled out his bow, a Mirkwood 58 Special, specifically designed for concealment. Its easy weight in his hand reassured him as he sneaked along the corridor and up the stairs.  
  
The unlikely pair was just entering Frodo's room as Greenleaf peered round the corner. Slipping out of the nearby window, he climbed round the building, toes on the narrow ledge. Thankfully there was little wind, and Greenleaf's skills enabled him to perform the feat with little difficulty. He soon stood balanced outside Frodo's window, watching as the hobbit pulled a small box out of his bag. Greenleaf could see Saruman's face as the ring was revealed. The wizard's expression became almost hungry and he reached for the ring eagerly, his face creasing into a leer.  
  
Frodo stood back warily, holding the box closer to his chest. Saruman lunged forward, hands outstretched. The hobbit stumbled backwards, falling to the floor. Saruman grasped at the box, but leapt back as an arrow whistled past his head, pulling away a piece of beard. He pulled out his staff as Greenleaf jumped down from the windowsill, nocking another arrow on his string. No emotion showed, much akin to the earlier card game, though with deadlier stakes. Neither would back down, each silently daring the other to move first.  
  
Frodo chose this moment to try and run, scrambling to his feet. Saruman charged forwards, grabbing at the hobbit with his large hands. Greenleaf let go his arrow, firing it at the wizard. It flew straight and landed solidly in his shoulder. Growling in pain, Saruman lifted his staff and fired off a bolt. It shot out of the staff and hit Greenleaf, sending him sprawling into the wall. He slumped to the floor.  
  
Gritting his teeth, he squinted through narrowed eyes as Saruman grabbed the box from Frodo's hands. The Elf found that his body wouldn't obey his command to move, and he could only watch helplessly as the wizard left the room laughing. Fighting the feeling hard, Greenleaf managed to first twitch a finger, and then move the rest of him. Shaking his arms and legs out, he pulled himself up. He staggered over to the window and heaved himself down the ivy, trying to regain his usual Elven agility. He leapt across into a tree and crouched there for a moment.  
  
Hearing the sound of approaching hoof beats a moment later, he looked out to see Saruman heading along the track on a pale grey horse. Waiting his opportunity, Greenleaf held back until the wizard was directly beneath him. He then jumped from the tree to land on the back of the horse. He wrapped his arms round Saruman, trying to pull him from the horse. They struggled, Saruman clawing at Greenleaf's face in a desperate attempt. The horse reared at the unexpected activity on his back, tossing both fighters to the ground.  
  
A kick to Saruman's side left him breathless, allowing Greenleaf to pin him down and hunt in his pockets for the box containing the ring. The wizard struggled beneath the Elf, making the search harder, but at last his fingers closed around the hard lines and corners of the box. A smile crossed his lips as he pulled it out, clutching it in his deceptively slender hand.  
  
Unfortunately, his grip loosened as he did so, a lapse that Saruman didn't miss. Lashing out with his staff, he caught the Elf unawares, throwing him violently off the wizard and impacting on his ribs. In an instant their positions were reversed, Saruman on top of the Elf, weight pressing down. His hand grasped at Greenleaf's, trying to force him to relinquish the box. He ground his fingers viciously against the bones.  
  
The Elf grimaced as Saruman's hand threatened to crush his wrist. He bucked his body up and twisted, pushing the wizard away, but still couldn't pull away from the hand on his wrist. He reached for one of the fine Mirkwood blades strapped to his back, but in doing so failed to notice the wizard's staff raising behind him. It crashed down hard on the back of his head.  
  
He was dimly aware of the box being removed from his now limp hand, and painfully aware of the savage kick to his ribs as Saruman walked away and whistled for his horse. The chuckle of the wizard came to his ears and was the last thing he knew. He blacked out. 


	2. Meeting With G

Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of MESS  
  
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Disclaimer: Legolas Greenleaf and associated characters belong to JRR Tolkien. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig. The James Bond comcept was created by Ian Fleming. A few odd characters and moments belong elsewhere.  
  
Author's Notes: This chapter I have tried to make very Bondian. I'm afraid there's not much action, but the plot's got to come through somewhere. Oh, and 0011? Well, '11' is 'elf' in German.  
  
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Chapter 2: Meeting With G  
  
A few days later, Greenleaf was in Lothlorien, strolling through the headquarters of the Middle Earth Secret Service. His head had healed, and the only evidence of his encounter with Saruman was the white bandage on his wrist. His face was impassive, as emotionless as his job called for it to be. He looked like most of the other Elves in Lorien, but with an icy handsomeness of his own. His golden hair, long and elegant, betrayed his different origins, braided as it was in the traditional Mirkwood style of three braids. His eyes were cold blue.  
  
He entered the office of Miss Evenstar, secretary to G. She looked up as he walked in, surreptitiously adjusting her dress as he turned to hang his bow and quiver on the stand in the corner. She was pretty in an enduring sort of way.  
  
"Legolas!" she said, with a faint air of flirting. "How lovely to see you!" She tilted her head upwards, lips slightly parted.  
  
"And you, 'star," he replied, kissing her cheek. She looked disappointed.  
  
"She's waiting for you," she told him, a little more coldly, "go straight on in."  
  
Greenleaf walked through the padded doorway, ignoring the longing gaze directed his way by Miss Evenstar. Inside the sparsely decorated office, G was waiting.  
  
G, head of the Middle Earth Secret Service, MESS, was better known to the rest of Middle Earth as Galadriel, lady of Lothlorien. She was tall and elegant, with long blond hair. She stood behind her desk, attired in a long white dress. Gesturing to a chair for Greenleaf, she sat herself. She picked up a file and handed it to him.  
  
"We're sending you after Saruman," she said, as he flicked through the file, "we need that ring that he stole from the hobbit."  
  
"Is it the ring?" Greenleaf asked. "The one that went missing years ago?"  
  
"All our information seems to point that way. Saruman must not be allowed to use it. Middle Earth could be destroyed."  
  
Greenleaf raised an eyebrow coolly. "And you want me to retrieve it?" he asked, frowning. He knew that Saruman was not an easy opponent.  
  
"Yes. You're the only agent we have in the area capable of this mission, Legolas."  
  
"Will I be alone?"  
  
"At first. I'm hoping that one of Elrond's operatives should be able to join you later. Go on now, U has some gadgets for you downstairs, and all the information is in that file.  
  
"Oh, and Legolas," she added as he paused in the doorway, "be careful."  
  
His answer was a charming smile and a toss of the hair.  
  
Greenleaf made his way down through the trees of Lothlorien, thoughts on the mission before him. Saruman was a powerful wizard, who until recently had claimed to be on the side of the MESS. In the last year though, information had been received to imply that his sympathies lay elsewhere. His stronghold of Isengard was being fortified extremely heavily. There were rumours that he was mustering his own army, though it was unsure of where from.  
  
There were even mutterings that he had become allied with the shadowy head of crime from the East, known only as Sauron. The crime lord was much feared and his shadow spread far. He had the insignia of a single red eye, a device that was being found more and more frequently.  
  
The ring that Saruman had stolen, though insignificant looking, had the potential to allow Sauron to take over Middle Earth. It was the final piece needed to complete his plans, according to the rather sketchy spy reports received by MESS. Its retrieval was essential, and this was the task entrusted to Greenleaf.  
  
He reached the rooms used by U, the elderly wizard who came up with all the items used by MESS agents. The venerable man was Gandalf, and he would, when not tinkering in his laboratory, travel widely, gathering information useful to the service. His genius for inventing gadgets was unparalleled.  
  
Greenleaf walked past two Elves testing a complicated-looking crossbow. Standing behind a screen, they triggered the weapon. Bolts shot out in all directions, destroying the dummies that were carefully placed around the enclosed area. Other Elves were experimenting with concealed weapons: a knife to be hidden in a braid of hair, a collapsible crossbow for concealing up a sleeve.  
  
U was bent over a tunic, inserting wires along the seams and trying not to tangle them in his beard. He stood up straight as Greenleaf walked up.  
  
"Ah, 0011," he said, bustling over, "G told me about your assignment. I've got a few things you may find useful."  
  
He hurried down another corridor, Greenleaf following closely behind. U led the secret agent into a small room on one side, in which were several bows and quivers, neatly laid on racks around the room. He fussed around, finding the right bow. Finally, he pulled down a fairly large one.  
  
"Here you are," he said, handing it to Greenleaf, "it's a Lorien Elf-hair. It's far better than that old Mirkwood 58 of yours; a longer range and much more power. These are your arrows," he continued, passing across a handsome quiver of arrows.  
  
Greenleaf weighed the bow in his hand, pleased with the light yet substantial wood. Laying an arrow on it smoothly, he sighted along the shaft. U clicked his tongue and pushed the point down. "Put that away," he ordered, "and follow me."  
  
He led Greenleaf down more corridors, which twisted and turned until they reached the stables. U strode past the stalls.  
  
"Now pay attention, 0011," he said, "we've got the latest horse in stock for you. He's called Shadowfax."  
  
He opened the stall door, revealing a tall white horse standing proudly. Greenleaf stepped into the stall to get a closer look. He glanced admiringly at the stallion, patting his neck. Shadowfax pushed his nose into the Elf's shoulder.  
  
"He's got all the most recent updates in horse training, and I'm sure you'll get on fine. But, 0011," he warned, and a pained expression crossed his face, "do look after him."  
  
"Don't I always?" Greenleaf said, an easy smile on his lips.  
  
U shook his head. "Remember that last mare I sent you out with? She wouldn't leave the stable for months!"  
  
"She was fine afterwards. It wasn't my fault I had to fight off Wargs," Greenleaf answered, leaving the stall. U merely tutted through his beard.  
  
Greenleaf made his way back to his rooms to pack his bags. He liked the sound of his assignment. It sounded like a challenge, one that Greenleaf welcomed. His jobs had been rather humdrum of late, attending soirees and filing paperwork. Hopefully this would prove somewhat more exciting.  
  
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	3. Arrival In Edoras

Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of MESS  
  
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Disclaimer: Legolas Greenleaf and associated characters belong to JRR Tolkien. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig. The James Bond concept was created by Ian Fleming. A few odd characters and moments belong elsewhere.  
  
Author's Notes: Again, I should explain that I have borrowed certain attitudes from Fleming's books. Feminists (or any female with a sense of self-respect), please don't hate me. Bond's attitude (by way of excuse) is portrayed wonderfully (if in a completely sexist way) in this quote from Casino Royale:  
  
"And now there was this pest of a girl. He sighed. Women were for recreation. On a job, they got in the way and fogged things up with sex and hurt feelings and all the emotional baggage they carried around. One had to look out for them and take care of them."  
  
And I seem to have noticed that no one much seems to like this fic much. Thanks go to Julia for being my one reviewer! If you don't like something, please let me know. Or is it just that Ffn has got really quiet round here?  
  
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Chapter 3. Arrival In Edoras.  
  
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An uneventful journey led Greenleaf to Edoras, a kingdom some way South of Lothlorien. To its North-western borders was the stronghold of Isengard, and the tower of Saruman. Ever mindful of the wizard's presence at his borders, King Theoden welcomed Greenleaf's arrival and had indicated to MESS that he would be glad to assist, as long as there was no threat to his people. The hilltop settlement was full of men, women, children and animals, and Theoden knew that they would never survive a prolonged onslaught from Saruman's forces.  
  
The King had, however, sent spies to Isengard. The ones who had returned reported to Greenleaf, telling him of their discoveries. There was not much that they could tell him, merely that Saruman was forming his own army, though they didn't know how or where from. The wizard called it the Army (Republic) of Saruman the Excellent, or ARSE for short. The army's numbers were apparently increasing by the day, though the spies had never seen them; only found evidence of their movements. This gave much concern to the old King. He had the settlement's walls strengthened and doubled his security, with armed warriors standing guard around the walls at all times.  
  
Greenleaf noticed all this as he walked through, and he also noticed how heads turned as he passed, thinking that maybe he should have worn a hat or hood. It would have hidden his hair and ears at least; if not his unusually fair skin, which would still pick him out among the people. Elves were not common around these mountains. Too many rocks, too little trees. You were more likely to find Dwarves here than Elves, Greenleaf thought with a snort.  
  
He had been given quarters in the Golden Hall, a classy building that was all gilt and rich decorations. The flag, a rearing horse on a green background, fluttered in the wind, pulled this way and that. The guards at the door were taciturn, nodding faintly as Greenleaf sauntered past. He wasn't sure how they liked his being there, but so far all the soldiers and people had been courteous and polite. But he knew that there would be some resentment; he was an outsider and an Elf, both reasons enough to earn people's distrust. Perhaps they were hoping that he could rid their borders of Saruman and his army. Greenleaf just wanted to get the ring and get out, as he had been told to do.  
  
His room was on the East side, a large airy place with tall windows. Greenleaf was glad, as he preferred not to feel cooped up. Casually, he bent down and reached into his pack, taking out a small glass. He moved around the room, running the sphere up and down the walls. Satisfied that there were no listening devices in the room, he replaced it in his back and sat on the bed to pull his boots off. U had warned him of one of Saruman's latest tricks, which consisted of enchanting insects to relay what they had heard, then sending these bugs to keep an ear on events elsewhere in Middle Earth. The glass sphere was spelled to detect the bugs, and Greenleaf would re-check his room regularly. Now though he stretched out on his bed to rest. It had been a long and arduous journey and he wanted to be fresh for the formal meal he had been asked to attend that evening.  
  
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It was nearly dark when he woke; the familiar stars were just beginning to shine through. Blinking his eyes, he washed his face in the water from the pitcher on the washstand, sluicing away any dust left from his travelling. He dressed smartly in deep blue tunic and leggings, smoothing down the fabric carefully. He neatened his hair before walking out of the room.  
  
He walked with a purposeful stride towards the dining hall. Halfway there, he met King Theoden making his own way to supper. Though progressing in his years, the white-haired man was still lively and vigorous, possessing a youthful energy. He smiled as he saw the Elf.  
  
"Good evening, Mr Greenleaf," he greeted him.  
  
"Good evening, your highness," Green leaf replied. As an Elf he had no obligation to defer to mortal royalty, but he felt it was polite, being as he was staying in his hall. Greenleaf was in fact a prince in his own right, but with his work in MESS he chose not to use his title, preferring the relative anonymity of being an ordinary Elf. His early life had been fairly secluded in Mirkwood, therefore his status as royalty was not well- known outside the wood.  
  
"Were my spies' reports useful?" the King asked as they walked together down the corridor.  
  
"Yes, though I would like to go there myself."  
  
"Well, occasionally he has guests for dinner in Orthanc. He'll probably invite you soon when he hears there's an Elf here." Theoden paused and rolled his eyes. "Which he has undoubtedly."  
  
Greenleaf raised an eyebrow. "He has spies here?"  
  
"In a way," Theoden said, shrugging his shoulders, "I'm sure he keeps an eye on us somehow, probably through his magics."  
  
"It wouldn't surprise me," Greenleaf commented, remembering U's information about the bugs.  
  
The pair entered the dining hall where a long table had been set up down the centre. Benches flanked the lower end of it, providing seating for the lower orders. They all stood as their King entered. He smiled and nodded, acknowledging their respectful gesture before waving them to sit again. With Greenleaf, he walked up the hall to the other end of the table, where benches gave way to seats. Theoden sat at the head of the table, indicating that the Elf should sit in a seat to his left. Servants immediately hurried forward with food.  
  
Greenleaf looked across the table to meet a fascinating pair of blue eyes. Giving the owner of the eyes a glance over, the Elf was fairly impressed with what he saw. The face they were set in was beautiful yet determined. A high forehead was surmounted with long blonde hair, which had the slightest of auburn among its waves. The maiden wore a white dress, under which firm breasts pushed up promisingly. Theoden introduced her.  
  
"This is my niece, Eowyn," he said, "Eowyn, this is Legolas Greenleaf."  
  
"Delighted to meet you, Legolas," Eowyn said, eyeing the handsome Elf.  
  
"Equally so," Greenleaf replied, bowing his head courteously. This brought a flush to her cheek, and her eyelashes fluttered momentarily. A faint cough came from the man at her elbow, drawing Greenleaf's attention. The cougher was a small pale man, made smaller by his hunched posture. His hair was black, greasy and stringy, dangling just above his food.  
  
"Grima," he offered by way of introduction, "chief advisor to his majesty." He blinked slowly in an almost reptilian way. "It is unusual to see an Elf here."  
  
"I'm travelling," Greenleaf answered, using his cover explanation," I have much desired to visit these parts. I am planning to make my way to Fangorn Forest soon, to see the trees."  
  
Grima made a small noise. "Of course," he said, "it is well known that Elves have a certain," here he paused delicately, "affinity for the woods."  
  
Greenleaf's eyes narrowed faintly. He sensed that this man wasn't being friendly. "I am a Wood Elf," he replied, "my kind are particularly connected to the trees."  
  
Seeming to notice the tension between the two, Eowyn stepped into the conversation.  
  
"I have never met one of your kind," she said, "though I have heard many tales. Tell me, are they all true?"  
  
"It depends what you've heard," Green leaf answered, his eyes twinkling. Eowyn laughed, and her cheeks dimpled.  
  
They continued to talk throughout the meal, occasionally flirting to the apparent disapproval of Grima. It was mostly small talk, though imbued with a certain amount of interest in each. This was, however, mostly one-sided on Eowyn's side, as Greenleaf had only a passing interest in the lady. His work called for him to be cold-hearted, and such was the nature of Elves that they could die from grief. As it was to Greenleaf, he married himself to his job, devoting his energies to what he did. A pretty maid was a distraction, but only that.  
  
After the meal, Greenleaf walked Eowyn to her room, lending her his arm in a gentlemanly way. When they were alone in the corridor, she turned her face to him.  
  
"My father has told me of your real reasons for being here," she said softly, almost directly into his pointed ear.  
  
"Then you know that you must not speak of it." He gave her a warning look.  
  
"I know," she replied, "but I want you to know that I will help you, should you need it." They reached the door to her room and stood outside.  
  
Greenleaf smiled. "Forgive me," he said, "but-."  
  
"I am not a defenceless woman," she interrupted, "I am a shieldmaiden of Rohan. Should you need me, I shall be there, however you need me."  
  
"I shall bear that in mind," he said. She opened the door and looked at him invitingly.  
  
"Goodnight, Lady Eowyn," Greenleaf continued, deliberately not noticing here invitation. A romantic dalliance would be fun, but was not what he wanted now. He wanted to concentrate on the job in hand.  
  
He turned to go as she shut the door firmly. Her proposal, to help him, had been interesting. In his experience, human females didn't fight back; they took care of the children. They were for staying at home, not going out to war. Their role was to reproduce, to continue the line of men. And of the women that Greenleaf had met, he knew none who he deemed capable of the kind of work he did.  
  
As he drew colder to his room, he became aware of someone behind him. Glancing back, he saw the creepy King's advisor Grima, who hurried to catch him up. When he reached Greenleaf's side he stared up at him, eyes so pale as to be indistinct from the flesh that surrounded them.  
  
"You should leave her alone," he hissed.  
  
"Why?" the Elf asked. He was beginning to feel nothing but disdain for this man.  
  
"She is not uncourted," Grima replied, laying a stress on the last word. Greenleaf looked at him askance.  
  
"By you?" he asked, unable to keep a faint sneer from his voice.  
  
"Do not involve yourself in something in which you have no part, Elf!" the man spat. "Your kind has no business here!"  
  
With that he hurried away in the other direction. An expression, half smirk and half frown, crossed Greenleaf's face. Something about the advisor was not trustworthy, and he resolved to keep a careful eye on him. The man was trouble.  
  
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	4. Invitation to Dinner

Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of MESS  
  
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Disclaimer: Legolas Greenleaf and associated characters belong to JRR Tolkien. The James Bond concept was created by Ian Fleming. A few odd characters and moments belong elsewhere.  
  
Author's Notes: Eowyn is actually quite a Bond girl, isn't she? Oh well. I borrowed a joke from Shrek. Yes, I am ashamed. And just for me, I'd like you all to pretend that it isn't far from Edoras to Isengard. Pretty please?  
  
Thanks go to my reviewers: AB4, Empress of Alvarra and Deana. You're all great! Oh, and so's Julia. She's betaing this for me. Being as she sat there reading what I posted then gleefully pointed out my typos, she can check them first. Cheers, hon!  
  
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Chapter 4. Invitation to Dinner  
  
Greenleaf spent the next day acclimatising and gathering as much information as he could. As King Theoden had predicted, an invitation arrived from Saruman that morning. It cordially invited "Prince Legolas Greenleaf" to a formal meal that evening in Orthanc, Isengard, in the company of the Istar, Saruman. The dress code was formal, and Greenleaf was glad that he had packed a formal outfit. He doubted that he'd be able to get into the wizard's stronghold to look for the ring, though a chance to spy out the lay of the land was advantageous. Into the Warg's lair, as it were.  
  
Of course, it was a possibility that Saruman would recognise him from the Rivendell halls. Hopefully he would not. It had been dark that night, and the battle too fast and fierce for the wizard to have got a close look as his face. Even so, Greenleaf decided to go with a change of hairstyle, leaving it loose, but topped with a silver circlet denoting his status. As it seemed that Saruman knew of his royalty, he felt it would be expected of him. Also, it would further mask his connections with the service. Together with a long tunic in the Silvan colours of green and brown, he felt he was in a suitably princely outfit, though one that was still eminently practical.  
  
He went down to the stables early that afternoon, allowing himself plenty of time to reach Orthanc. By Shadowfax's stall stood Eowyn in another white dress. She looked up surprised -pretending, Greenleaf thought- as he walked up.  
  
"I was just admiring your horse," she said, "he's very handsome. What's he called?"  
  
"Shadowfax," Greenleaf replied, "ands he's more than just handsome."  
  
"I'm sure," Eowyn said, smiling and stroking the horse's nose. "Of what stock is he? Where was he bred? By whom?"  
  
"By our horsemen, dear niece," the voice of Theoden said as the King came into the stables, "I bade our friend Gandalf take him when he was here last. And it seems that he has prospered under the old man's care, has he not?"  
  
"Indeed sir," Greenleaf commented, "he is one of the finest beasts I have had the privilege of riding."  
  
"I hope he serves you well," Theoden said, "but we must be elsewhere. Come, niece, we all have our duties." He swept off through the stable. Eowyn moved to follow him, then paused, turned and kissed Greenleaf on the cheek, blushing faintly even as she did.  
  
"Good luck, Legolas," she whispered, then hurried out. He watched her go before unfastening the stall door.  
  
"Out you come, old boy," he said, "we've got quite a way to go."  
  
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It was indeed quite a way, though on any other horse the journey would have been longer. On the way, Greenleaf found his thoughts returning to the Lady Eowyn. He allowed his mind to think on her looks, as he would with any other female of passable appearance. But more he would not dwell on. The woman was just trying to ensnare him, like every other woman. No matter how they tried to prove otherwise, following male pursuits and all that, they were all being typically female, only really interested in finding a husband and having children. All women were the same, with perhaps a few exceptions. G was one of these. Greenleaf respected her almost as a man, knowing that she was totally committed to her job. But even so, she was the same. She was old -though she didn't look it- and had already had her children and grandchildren.  
  
No, Greenleaf decided emphatically, no woman could ever be like a man. Even Eowyn the "shieldmaiden" with her fancy questions on horse-breeding could manage to disguise the fact that she was a woman, and therefore a distraction. And as Greenleaf thought this, he realised that he had indeed been distracted. A steadily approaching group of five riders was behind him and coming up fast. Feeling sure that Shadowfax was more than a match for any of their beasts, Greenleaf allowed them to draw closer, using the time to recall geographical features from the map he had studied before setting out.  
  
With a nudge to Shadowfax's flank, Greenleaf shot off, guiding the horse up a narrow mountain path. The riders followed. Greenleaf smiled, knowing that he was nowhere near top speed. The chase sped up the path, faster and faster as they got higher and higher. Soon the back rider, a portlier man than the rest, had skidded from the path, falling from his mount and down into the valley. The remaining four gained on Shadowfax, and Greenleaf allowed them to for a moment. Then he urged the white stallion on, pulling ahead again. He was reaching the sort of speed that he enjoyed; a fast, dangerous speed. To a Man's eyes the landscape would be blurred, hurrying past at a great rate, but to an Elf's it was crystal clear.  
  
Something whizzed past Greenleaf's ear and he ducked reflexively. Looking back, he saw that some of his pursuers had drawn crossbows and were firing them at him. Dodging another shot, he pointed Shadowfax off the path and up the steeper slopes. Time to turn up the heat, he thought grimly. The riders followed, though one fell almost instantly, cracking his head on a large rock. Another slipped shortly after, falling with his horse into a steep ravine. Greenleaf felt a moment's pity for the beast, but was concerned with more pressing matters.  
  
The two remaining horsemen were tightly on his trail. Even he had to be impressed with their tenacity and skill, though they were still not deserving of his respect. They wanted to kill him, and had no particular finesse in their manner of execution. Wanting to be rid of them as soon as possible, Greenleaf bent forward to whisper in Shadowfax's ear, then swung his legs over to sit backwards on the horse's back. His bow was off his back and in his hands, an arrow on the string, in seconds, shooting off an instant later to fell the back horseman. The body jerked and twisted down the rocky incline, ending up face first in a bush.  
  
There was now only one rider left. Greenleaf span back to face front again, returning his bow to his back and pulling out his knife. As the man drew up, helped by Shadowfax dropping back under Greenleaf's command, he grinned through his beard. The grin soon turned into a grimace as the Elf grabbed him and pressed the edge of his blade against the filthy throat.  
  
"Who paid you?" Greenleaf demanded, tightening his hold.  
  
"No one," the man choked, "we . . . bandits. We . . . not paid."  
  
"Somebody told you to go after me," Greenleaf insisted, "who?"  
  
"Oh . . ." the man gasped. "Arse . . ." He shoved his head forward and slit his own throat on Greenleaf's knife. The Elf scowled and dropped the body, after wiping his blade clean on the man's shirt. He had got precious little from that encounter, save for the fact that someone wanted him dead (not an uncommon occurrence), but maybe there was something of use. He wheeled Shadowfax about and aimed to rejoin the path he had been following previously.  
  
The man's last remark could just have been an expression of his anger, but Greenleaf knew that for the most part men had far coarser words in their vocabulary to use in such an instance. It was most likely therefore that it had been a reference to ARSE, the Army (Republic) of Saruman the Excellent. If this was so, then Saruman would have been behind the attack. This was not something that Greenleaf wanted now, while he was headed straight for Saruman's stronghold. Perhaps he had just warned his soldiers to be on the lookout for a golden-haired Elf, but it was more probable that the wizard had put two and two together alarmingly quickly. He may have had information from inside Edoras. He was wily; he knew that a bandit attack in the mountains would never be traced to him, and it would prove a tragic -yet blame free on his part- end to the Prince of Mirkwood.  
  
Unluckily for him, Greenleaf and his steed were made of stronger stuff. They travelled on in the sunlight, never deviating from the remainder of their path towards Orthanc. Greenleaf resettled his hair, thanking the Valar for the umpteenth time that it took far more than that to get an Elf sweaty. It was just as well that the blood of the so-called bandit hadn't sprayed over his clothes. That would have looked bad.  
  
Soon the tall tower of Orthanc loomed up among the mountain slopes. It was polished black, reflecting the sunlight and making it feel cold. The end was two-pronged, like a gigantic tuning-fork, and it greatly resembled Saruman's staff, as Greenleaf remembered from his close encounter with it in Rivendell. He gazed at the proud length, its thrusting points and its firm base, and he smiled suddenly. He's compensating for something, he thought. His type always is.  
  
The gates were below him, down the slope, so Greenleaf cantered the rest of the way. The magnificent horse and his own proud bearing would blind onlookers to much else, giving no hint of his true intentions. He would appear only as a Prince for now, as he was expected to do.  
  
"I am expected," he said somewhat imperiously, waving his invitation to the guard on the gates.  
  
"Straight on through, yer highness," the guard replied, opening the gates and tugging the front of his helmet respectfully. "Nobby'll take yer horse."  
  
Greenleaf rode slowly through the tall gates and into Isengard.  
  
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	5. The Warg's Lair

Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of MESS  
  
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Disclaimer: Legolas Greenleaf and associated characters belong to JRR Tolkien. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig. The James Bond concept was created, or at least best used by Ian Fleming. A few odd characters and moments belong elsewhere.  
  
Author's Notes: Oddly, this chapter is twice as long as most of the others. Also included in this chapter here are two characters that definitely belong elsewhere. Brownie points to those who know who and where. I'll just quote "With slightly different uniforms and much better dialogue they'd be right out of Shakespeare". And I've used another of his lines here. And finally, don't worry about Greenleaf's opinions on parsley. It's a bit of personal bee in my bonnet.  
  
Thanks to all my readers! Even if you didn't review. And, yes, thank you, Lana, I know what you mean. Har-dee-har.  
  
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Chapter 5. The Warg's Lair  
  
"I'm afraid you'll have to leave yer weapons, sir," the gate guard said, following the visitor through and shutting the gates.  
  
"Will they be safe?" Greenleaf asked, dismounting gracefully and handing Shadowfax's bridle to the small, rather repulsive man who was Nobby, the groom. It was the only tack the horse wore.  
  
"Oh yes," the guard replied, "I'll sit and watch 'em very carefully, sir, y'can be sure of that."  
  
"And I'll look after this 'orse, sir," the groom piped up, "'e's a beauty, in't 'e, Fred? Lor' lummee, 'e's gorgeous."  
  
"Aye, that he is, Nobby," Fred the guard replied, "he's a rare one."  
  
Greenleaf passed his bow, quiver and knife to Fred, who looked them over admiringly, then appeared faintly bashful.  
  
"And the one on yer boot, sir," he said, "sorry, but everyone always thinks you won't realise they got one hidden there."  
  
With a smile, Greenleaf handed it over. "I see that nothing gets past you," he said, wondering whether the guard would ask about the knife strapped to the inside of his thigh, or the tiny one under his hair, or indeed any of the others about his person.  
  
Fred didn't, and soon Greenleaf was being escorted by a servant into the presence of the wizard Saruman.  
  
The room he was in was impressive in itself. Its walls were the circumference of the tower, save for the steps between, making for a wide, circular space. They were black but highly reflective, and hung with various artworks in paint and tapestry. A few chaise-lounges were around the edge of the room, and it was on one of these that Saruman reclined. He rose courteously as his guest entered, bowing slightly and receiving a bow in return.  
  
"Do take a seat," he said, indicating to the one beside his own, "and you must be thirsty. Wine!"  
  
The servant scurried off at his command, returning very soon after with two glasses and a bottle. He opened the bottle in a professional manner, and then left the room, bowing as he went. Saruman filled the crystal glasses and handed one to Greenleaf.  
  
"A toast," he suggested, "to your land, and mine."  
  
"Indeed," Greenelaf replied, inwardly raising an eyebrow. He clinked his glass against the wizard's, and sipped the liquid. It was a fairly good wine -a full-bodied Rohan '84- though not what he would have chosen as an appetiser to a meal. He made no comment, deciding that it would be rather rude.  
  
"So," Saruman said, "what brings an Elven Prince this far? We seldom see your kind here."  
  
Time for the old excuse, Greenleaf thought. "I wanted to travel," he explained aloud, "and see more of Middle Earth than I have previously. I have not visited many places south of Mirkwood, I am sad to say."  
  
"I hope you like this area," the wizard said with a smile, "I trust it does not disappoint."  
  
"Oh, indeed not! The scenery is wonderful, even if there are fewer trees than I am accustomed to." This comment drew a chuckle from the wizard. Greenleaf decided to go for the 'slightly haughty prince' demeanour. "The people in Edoras are charming," he continued, "so fond of their horses. They're very friendly, making my stay very pleasant. Do you spend much time there?"  
  
Saruman sighed. "Not as much as I would like to. My work here keeps me busy for the most part."  
  
"Oh, what work do you do?" The question was asked innocently enough, but Greenleaf was very interested to hear the answer.  
  
"I do a lot of recording," Saruman said, waving a hand airily, "I get information from all over Middle Earth via messengers, and I collate it here. There are many scrolls here that I have written and collected over the years.  
  
Greenleaf let his eyes widen. Sometimes being a blond was good; you could be seen as a bimbo. "What kind of information?"  
  
"All sorts," Saruman explained, "mostly events and histories. I have some on Mirkwood somewhere."  
  
"We do keep our own records, but I didn't know that any others did. I wonder if it would be possible to see them?"  
  
The wizard put on a disappointed look. "I'm afraid not," he said, "the entire Mirkwood collection has just been sent off to be rebound. One of my foolish servants damaged the volumes, so I had to get them sorted. I don't have the facilities to mend them here."  
  
"That's a pity," Greenleaf said. But convenient for you, he continued in his mind. He wondered exactly what sort of information Saruman had collected. Obviously not the sort of thing he wanted people to know he knew, judging by his vague answers and excuses.  
  
"Maybe you'd like to see more of Orthanc, Prince Legolas? There is a pleasing prospect from the top of the tower."  
  
"Of course," Greenleaf smiled, "nothing would please me more. I have heard of your tower and its height."  
  
"There are many steps to climb," Saruman said, standing and taking up his staff, holding it in his left hand.  
  
"I shall be fine," Greenleaf assured him, "but tell me," he continued as they walked across the room, "do you always carry your staff?"  
  
Saruman laughed. "But of course," he said, "it's like they say. A wizard and his staff are seldom parted."  
  
And they also say that a wizard's staff has a knob on the end, Greenleaf thought. More compensation, I believe. These types are all the same.  
  
There were a lot of steps, all cut regularly out of the dark stone and winding up and around the tower. Neither the wizard nor the Elf spoke much as they ascended, the only sounds being the heavy tread of Saruman and the light step of Greenleaf. A Man might have found the height dizzying, but the wizard was well-used to it and the Elf determined. A small door stood at the head of the stairs, opening onto the flat top of the tower. It banged shut after them.  
  
"The breeze," Saruman offered by way of explanation, catching Greenleaf's quick look at it.  
  
It was perfectly possible, Greenleaf knew, that Saruman suspected him and would use this opportunity to get rid of him if needed. An accidental slip would be a blameless death. Greenleaf would have to be very careful, in both his words and his steps. Not showing any of his apprehensions, he walked across the smooth floor to stand by the unprotected edge, his back to the wizard. Below him -and it was a long way below- was the glittering River Isen, winding down from the steep mountains. The dark green just visible to the North East was Fangorn, the ancient forest. Directly to the East were the plains of Rohan. The way he had come from Edoras was behind him, the Golden Hall hidden behind mountains whose shadows lengthened with the slowly setting sun.  
  
"It is a beautiful view," Saruman said softly, stepping up behind the Elf.  
  
"It is," Greenleaf agreed, not particularly comfortable in his position between the wizard and a very steep drop.  
  
The sun coated everything with a reddish-gold sheen, lending warmth to the cold stone exterior. Greenleaf forced himself to look straight down onto Isengard, ignoring Saruman's breath near his ear. The garden looked exactly as he expected it to; grass, trees and bushed. But something was wrong, Greenleaf realised with a jolt that he immediately masked. He couldn't hear the trees. In fact, they weren't really there. Squinting slightly, Greenleaf stared hard; looking through the enchantments that he knew must be there. The bleak reality was harsh, stripped brown earth. He would have examined it longer but, not wishing to raise Saruman's suspicions, he looked around at the scenery again. Picture postcard pretty, he decided. He almost started when Saruman's hand settled on his shoulder. Almost.  
  
"You have no buildings like this in Mirkwood, I believe," the wizard said.  
  
"No," Greenleaf answered, "we keep our dwellings below the level of the trees." He was loath to reveal any more details of his home, not trusting the wizard's intentions.  
  
"Other Elf-homes have magnificent buildings though," Saruman commented airily.  
  
"Oh, indeed," Greenelaf said, noting the subtle slur on Mirkwood, "though such would seem out of place in our wood."  
  
"But your father is a King. Surely his royal status calls for magnificence."  
  
Inside, Greenleaf was angry, though outwardly he was cool and emotionless. "We have magnificence," he said simply, "but we do not flaunt it."  
  
"Of course," Saruman said, his fingers moving ever so slightly on Greenleaf's shoulder, reminding the Elf of his precarious position.  
  
"I have been to the Rivendell Halls," Greenleaf said casually. He was flirting with the danger now, uncaring. It gave him a thrill, the knowledge that death was only seconds away should he say the wrong thing. He thrived on these situations. He felt the wizard's fingers move again, and had to stop himself smirking. "Though not for some time."  
  
"I too have been there," Saruman said, not revealing if Greenleaf's statement had affected him at all, "the halls are fantastic."  
  
"Why did you go?" Greenleaf asked conversationally. The fingers, which had relaxed, tightened again minutely. "I went to visit friends," he continued.  
  
"For the gambling, to an extent," the wizard said calmly enough, though Greenleaf could detect a guarded tone to his voice, "and the hospitality."  
  
"It is indeed excellent," Greenleaf agreed, nodding his head. His hair fluttered in the light breeze. Not enough of a breeze to slam a door shut, Greenleaf rationalised, and forced himself to stay relaxed, not to tense up. A bell boomed up from below, muffled by the stone of the tower. It was the only sound Greenleaf could hear, or had heard since being on the top of the tower. No birds, he realised, nothing. Some sort of spell perhaps? And if so, why?  
  
"That is the bell for dinner," Saruman said. He walked across the tower top. Greenleaf took one last look around before following. The wizard held the door for him, gesturing for him to go first. Greenleaf did so, but was aware, even more so than on the way up, that the stairs had no rail or banister. The inside of the upper part of the tower was hollow, and the stairs narrow. The thought of Saruman directly behind him would have made a weaker-willed creature nervous, but Greenleaf knew that if the wizard had wanted to kill him, he would have done it already. For now, he was safe.  
  
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Dinner was served in a room lower down, one which was again the width of the tower. In this room though, approximately a quarter was taken up by a curved glass tank filled with water. Greenleaf walked up to it, staring at the creatures that swam within. They were, at first glance, large fish, about twice the size of a human head, though closer scrutiny revealed other features. Their scales were dark and looked hard, more like a carapace. The edges of the fins were sharp, and slashes along the sides of several of the creatures bore testimony to this. Their teeth, occasionally revealed as one or another opened their mouth, were long and sharp, leaving no doubt that they were carnivores.  
  
"One of my hobbies," Saruman said from behind Greenleaf, "cross-breeding fish."  
  
"With what?" Greenleaf asked, repressing a shudder. The look in the creatures' eyes was disturbing to say the least.  
  
"Goblins, mostly. It makes for a most fascinating experiment."  
  
"I'm sure." There was more than Saruman was saying, Greenleaf was even more sure. There was orc in that mix somewhere.  
  
"Don't worry," the wizard said cheerily, "I won't serve you any for dinner."  
  
Greenleaf laughed politely and allowed him to lead him to his seat. The tablecloth was deep blue, decorated at points with tiny silver beads. The cutlery was properly set up and gleaming. Even as Greenleaf sat there, a steaming bowl of soup was set in front of him in a white bowl. The soup was a rich tomato, with a small sprig of parsley floating in the centre. Greenleaf regarded it askance. What was the point of parsley? It gave no class to a meal. Any common person could stick a sprig on top of a meal and think it looked posh, while better people -or those who regarded themselves as better- used a finer garnish. Ignoring the issue for now, Greenleaf sipped the soup from his spoon.  
  
The meal passed, on the whole, quietly. Any talk was generally small and unimportant; the weather, the state of the country, the history of the Elves. Saruman knew quite a lot about the other, and dessert -a delicate soufflé- was passed discussing genealogies and events. The servant, always the same one, hurried back and forth silently, bringing food or removing plates. When the meal was finally finished, he stood respectfully by the door and cleared his throat.  
  
"My lords, drinks are in the library."  
  
Saruman stood immediately, moving round the table to help Greenleaf from his chair. He's treating me like a damn woman, the Elf realised with a sudden irritation that he didn't show. They went down a floor to the library, another large room, edged with tall bookcases all full of richly- bound books. One, Greenleaf noticed, was a collection of Elven histories, the golden script on their spines seeming to be shining. A clink behind him signalled that Saruman was pouring two measures of brandy. The wizard handed one to Greenleaf before pulling a long pipe out of his robes and filling it with pipeweed.  
  
"Do you smoke?" he asked.  
  
Greenleaf shook his head. It was one of the habits he had never picked up, associating it with Men and Hobbits. He sipped at the brandy as Saruman puffed aromatic curling grey smoke into the air. There were no windows in this room, the light being provided by candles. They burned ever brighter in Greenleaf's eyes as the glass slipped from his fingers. He opened his mouth to apologise, but nothing came out. The smoke was suddenly pressing in on him and Saruman was grabbing his arm and his face was only inches away and Greenleaf was suddenly very hot.  
  
"Why are you really here?" the wizard hissed, but although he was so close, he was very far away. "Why?" he repeated, voice coming from a very long way away.  
  
Greenleaf could only gasp as the room grew darker and he fell to the carpeted floor. He passed out.  
  
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	6. The Morning After

Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of MESS  
  
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Disclaimer: Legolas Greenleaf and associated characters belong to JRR Tolkien. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig. The James Bond concept was created, or at least best used by Ian Fleming. A few odd characters and moments belong elsewhere.  
  
Author's Notes: I've taken some liberties with the structure of Orthanc. I know what it's meant to be like, but they changed it in the film anyway. Just go with it. Thanks for all my reviewers; new this time: Ebenn1 and ldy imladris! I write it for you readers, so let me know if it's appreciated. Thanks to Julia again for beta'ing it. Even if she takes her own sweet time about it.  
  
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Chapter 6. The Morning After  
  
Greenleaf's first thought on waking with an aching head and fuzzy mouth was "must have been a good evening." Then he remembered.  
  
"Oh hell," he muttered, sitting upright, "not a good evening. Must have been something in the brandy." He squinted, looking around. Everything swam before his eyes, until he rested his head against the wall for a moment to settle it. The walls were bare black stone, and the door thick metal with a small grill in it. Same sort of dungeon cells that were found all over Middle Earth. There were even some like this in Mirkwood, though those were a bit damper and mouldier round the edges.  
  
Standing, he walked somewhat unsteadily to the door and peered out through the grill. A window further down the curving corridor outside let in light and afforded a narrow view of the enchanted view outside. Greenleaf could see that he was some way further down the tower than he had been previously, just below tree level. Not that they were real trees. He frowned, realising that the trees had probably been cut down to make room for whatever Saruman was doing up there. Gazing left, all that was visible was a wall curving out of sight. But to the right Greenleaf could see a guard leaning against the wall. He didn't look particularly awake, and his eyes, half-closed, stared at the hypnotically swaying tree-images outside.  
  
Greenleaf smiled, a plan forming in his mind. He began to sing softly an old Elvish lullaby, keeping his voice just within the level of hearing. The guard's eyelids drooped further, until they were completely shut. He slid slowly to the floor, not waking as his back scraped down the stone wall. When he lay still, snoring quietly with his head on one side, Greenleaf stopped singing. Pulling a lockpick from the collar of his robe, he set to work on the door and soon had it open. Stepping out, he shut it behind him. The more time before his escape was discovered the better.  
  
"Sleep well," he said offhandedly to the snoozing guard as he walked past. The man merely grunted and continued to snore.  
  
The corridor ran all around that level of the tower, encircling the prison cells in the centre. Walking round, it didn't take Greenleaf long to find the doorway onto the stairs. Listening carefully first to see if anyone was coming and hearing no one, he began making his way down them as quietly as possible. The tower had a fairly complex structure, he concluded. The stairway appeared to spiral all the way round the interior of the tower, with the rooms inside that. There was probably an awful lot of stairs and a good many levels. It could take ages to find what he was looking for. Besides, G had said that backup would probably arrive from Elrond, and the more people involved, the shorter the search. But if the backup hadn't arrived by the time Greenleaf returned to Edoras, then he would have to continue alone. Time was of the essence if Saruman really did know why he was there.  
  
Passing a window as he descended, Greenleaf saw that he was on ground level. Taking a moment, he stared out onto Isengard, willing his eyes to see past the spells Saruman had placed. Once you knew they were there you could see through them, particularly with Elven eyesight. The trees and greenery faded away, revealing the devastation beneath. The ground was stripped and bare. Great holes yawned widely, vomiting black smoke. Listening intently, Greenleaf could hear hammering, marching and machinery, sounding distant through Saruman's silencing spell.  
  
The stairs continued on down, going underground. Greenleaf took another look round, then followed them, listening all the while for anyone behind or in front of him. He never particularly liked being beneath the ground too deep or too long. For now he just intended to get a look at what Saruman seemed desperate to hide, to gain more of an idea of what he would face. The steps became rougher cut the further down he went and Greenleaf was careful to watch his footing.  
  
Suddenly, he walked into a wall of sound. Momentarily disorientated, he stumbled and grabbed at the wall to stop himself falling. The noise was deafening, particularly as he had been listening intently to silence just before. It was shouts and roars, hammers and metal. Adjusting to it after the initial shock, Greenleaf realised that he had just passed the bounds of Saruman's silencing spell. The din was part of what he was trying to hide and, judging by the volume, it was very close. Even more cautiously now that he couldn't easily have heard anybody approaching, he crept on. He went round the spiral of the stairs once more, and then he saw it.  
  
A vast army of orcs was toiling away round great furnaces, making their own style of weapons and armour. Each time a piece was completed it was thrown onto a pile, landing with a crash. Looking closer, Greenleaf could see that these weren't just ordinary orcs, they were Uruk-Hai, the foul crossbreed far better suited for battles. As he gazed past the grunting workers he saw, far over the other side of the cavern, great egg-shaped globules. Even as he watched, one ripped open and a slime-bedecked creature crawled out; a newborn Uruk-Hai. Greenleaf was instantly revolted, realising that Saruman had been breeding these monstrosities.  
  
Deciding that he had seen enough, he hurried back up the stairs, away from the heat and the stench. With gratitude he passed back through the silence barrier, as his legs took the stairs three at a time. Ground level was soon reached, and he stopped at the window. Only to duck back as Saruman strode past the outside. The wizard was on his way back from the gate, an angry look on his face. Greenleaf heard the door, which was just around the curve, slam open and slam shut. Crouched on the window sill, cut all the way through the wall, he hoped that the wizard would go upstairs. His prayers were answered, and Saruman's footsteps receded out of hearing and up the tower. With his customary Elven speed, Greenleaf sped along the remaining corridor. He slipped out of the door, closing it carefully behind him. The courtyard was quickly circumnavigated, running along the edges of the few outbuildings, bringing him to the stables.  
  
The guard and the groom were sitting in one of the far stalls, playing cards. Greenleaf's knives, bow and quiver sat on a stool opposite Shadowfax's stall. Walking silently across the stable floor, the Elf picked them up, redistributing them about his person. He then eased the bolt on the stall door, sliding it carefully back.  
  
"Snap!" Nobby suddenly yelled. Fred grumbled.  
  
"Best of fifteen?" he asked. Greenleaf held his breath, waiting.  
  
"Go on then," Nobby agreed. There was the rustling of cards being shuffled. "You're such a poor loser."  
  
Greenleaf led Shadowfax out, spreading hay beneath his hooves to muffle the sound. There was nobody in the courtyard, but Greenleaf hurried, knowing that Saruman could be watching from any of the windows. The gates were, of course, shut, but not locked.  
  
"Careless," Greenleaf muttered, opening it. At which point, a shout came from the tower.  
  
"Guards! You fools! He's at the gates!" Saruman's face, framed in an open window, was apoplectic. Fred and Nobby came running out of the stable, Nobby with his cards still in his hand. They were too late. Greenleaf had swung himself up onto Shadowfax's back and urged the horse into a gallop. There was no hope of pursuit.  
  
Not for the first time, Greenleaf thanked the Valar for Shadowfax's speed. No other horse in Saruman's stable -and there weren't many- could match it. Grass blurred beneath as the horse raced on. Raising his eyes to the scenery now that he knew it was enchanted, Greenleaf could see that the river was in fact dammed. A huge structure between the mountains held the water captive, allowing the merest trickle through. The mountains themselves and the hills still looked beautiful, despite the rot spreading from Isengard. Greenleaf cursed Saruman as he rode for blemishing the landscape. He's probably even taken trees from Fangorn to burn in his furnaces, he thought angrily.  
  
It was a fairly long ride from Isengard to Edoras, so once Greenleaf was sure that he wasn't followed he slowed Shadowfax's pace, not wanting to tire the horse. Even at what was slower for Shadowfax they still went fast, and it was not long before they were on the North-South road heading through the Westfold. The sun gleamed on the fortress of Helm's Deep as they passed, identifying the grey stone building among the grey stone mountains. Shortly after this, they approached another lone rider on the road, dressed in the garb of a Ranger. Greenleaf, curious, pulled Shadowfax in to keep pace with the lone Ranger's horse as they drew alongside. The Ranger turned his head to identify his new companion. His face was mostly hidden by a hood, though the chin that protruded sported a beard, leading to Greenleaf's surprise when the stranger greeted him with "Mae Govannen."  
  
The Elf responded in kind before asking, "But you are not of the Elves. Why do you speak in our tongue?"  
  
The Ranger laughed. "It is obvious that you are of the fair folk, so I greeted you according. For myself, I have spent much time, particularly in my earlier years, among the Elves of Rivendell." With a smile, he pulled back his hood, revealing a handsome weather-beaten face surrounded with shoulder-length brown hair. His eyes, though serious and grey, held some of the light of life. "My name is Aragorn."  
  
"Greenleaf. Legolas Greenleaf."  
  
"Then it is you I have come to assist!" Aragorn exclaimed. "Elrond sent me, on the orders of G."  
  
Greenleaf was shocked by this news. He had expected Elrond to send one of his Elves, not a man. Men were weak, foolish. He would have to watch him, to make sure he didn't ruin everything. Men had a tendency to be erratic, unreliable and impetuous. But maybe, Greenleaf thought, this one can actually read a map, unlike many. Him being a Ranger and all. He decided to test this.  
  
"You must have been travelling for some time," he said, "which way did you come?"  
  
"South from Rivendell, following the Misty Mountains on the west side," Aragorn replied, "then I joined this road south of Dunland. Fairly easy going, though it'd have been faster with a beauty of a horse like yours." He looked at Shadowfax appreciatively, and then a thought struck him. "Where have you come from this morning? You don't seem to have been in Edoras last night."  
  
Greenleaf raised an eyebrow. "Do I look that bad?"  
  
"Oh no, just slightly . . . rumpled. And you're wearing, if I'm not mistaken, a formal tunic, so you were out last night."  
  
Despite himself, Greenleaf was impressed. "Good deduction," he said with a slight grin. "I got invited to dinner with Saruman. He decided he wanted me to stay the night."  
  
It was Aragorn's turn to be surprised, though he didn't hide it as well. "He suspects you?"  
  
"That was my conclusion, yes, when I woke up locked in a cell. He probably recognised me from our little tussle in Rivendell."  
  
"I knew about that. Is there anything else I need to know? Did you find anything out last night?"  
  
"I found out a lot."  
  
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Heh. "Hi ho, Silver, away!" 


	7. The Council of War

Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of MESS  
  
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Disclaimer: Legolas Greenleaf and associated characters belong to JRR Tolkien. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig. The James Bond concept was created, or at least best used by Ian Fleming. A few odd characters and moments belong elsewhere.  
  
Author's Notes: Another chapter of mostly talk, I'm afraid. Well, the story wouldn't work otherwise. By the way, for the purposes of this fic, Theodred is on a long holiday somewhere or something like that. Thanks as ever to all my readers. I presume there're some of you out there somewhere.  
  
I'm so sorry this chapter is late! I've just been snowed under with work. Next week's chapter is also likely to be late, I'm afraid. But after that it should get better. Sorry all, though no one complained.  
  
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Chapter 7. The Council of War  
  
Greenleaf and Aragorn arrived in Edoras in time for a late lunch. Grima was waiting for them at the gate, fidgeting with his handkerchief in one spindly hand. He coughed as the pair trotted past.  
  
"Good day," Greenleaf greeted, feeling oddly cheerful.  
  
"Good?" the advisor muttered, making phlegmy sounds in his throat. "We thought you'd be back last night."  
  
"Oh, I decided to stay overnight," Greenleaf said with a smile, "Saruman was a most gracious host."  
  
Ignoring Grima's poisonous look, he and Aragorn headed to the stables to sort out the horses.  
  
"Who's that?" the Man asked as he removed his bags from his horse's back.  
  
"Grima, King Theoden's advisor," Greenleaf told him, "he's a real worm."  
  
"Looks it," Aragorn agreed, "but, say, who's that?" He looked across the courtyard to where a figure in a white dress was heading their way.  
  
"King Theoden's niece, Eowyn," Greenleaf said, noting the man's interested gaze. He wouldn't get far if he was that transparent, far too easy to see what he was thinking. In this line of business, emotions were useless baggage. Emotions were dangerous. They could get you killed.  
  
"Legolas! You're safe!" Eowyn burst into the stable. "I was, that is, we were worried when you weren't back last night." Then she saw the other person standing by Greenleaf. "Oh. You, uh, brought a friend. How nice."  
  
"Eowyn, meet Aragorn. He's from Rivendell. Aragorn, Lady Eowyn." Introductions made, Greenleaf stepped back.  
  
It wasn't like he cared in anyway. He didn't care that they were staring at each other in tongue-tied silence. No attachments; that was one of Greenleaf's primary rules for life. She was pretty, yes, but still just a woman. A woman. They had their uses, but he wanted none of it. Immortals didn't fall in love with mortals; the consequences were too well-known. The tale of Beren and Luthien always came to mind. Deciding that it would be a good thing -and fine by him- to leave the two alone, Greenleaf left the stable.  
  
He hadn't gone far when he met King Theoden, striding out of the Golden Hall, Grima at his heels.  
  
"Greenleaf, glad to see you back. Anything we need to know?"  
  
"Plenty, your majesty," Greenleaf said, admiring the king's direct manner. It got things done, no faffing around. "Might I suggest a meeting in about half an hour?"  
  
"Fine," the King responded, "in the map room. We'll see you then."  
  
He continued on, Grima following. The advisor looked back over his shoulder, giving the Elf a contemptuous look. Greenleaf stayed expressionless. He was a professional. It would take more than a look to get a rise out of him. He wasn't scared of that ineffectual little man.  
  
It didn't take him long to wash and change, removing any traces of his experiences last night and that morning. The splash of cold water pushed away the vestiges of the drug that Saruman had given him. He had known the risks when he had accepted the wizard's invitation. He hadn't walked in blindly. His cover had been all previously worked out, and Greenleaf trusted in his abilities to get himself out of a tight spot, as had been proved. He had been in and out, discovering in the process what Saruman was hiding under Isengard. But he'd still have to return, to find the ring that he'd let slip from his fingers once already. It wouldn't happen again.  
  
Half and hour later, he was in the map room, along with King Theoden, Grima, Aragorn, Eowyn, and Eomer, Eowyn's brother. Greenleaf didn't approve of the woman's presence, but said nothing. A large map lay across the table, showing the area between Edoras and Isengard. The men were all standing as the Elf entered, while Eowyn sat in a chair by the head of the table. King Theoden smiled, gesturing for everyone else to sit and for Greenleaf to stand by him.  
  
"Now," he said, "tell us what you have found out." He sat himself, leaving the talking to the secret agent.  
  
Greenleaf began with a little background. "As most of you probably know, rumours have been heard to say that Saruman has been building himself an army. Until now, no one knew how he had been doing this. But I discovered this morning that he has, in fact, been breeding one." Gasps arose from around the table at this, and Greenleaf continued. "His army consists of Uruk-Hai, crossbreed orcs who can fight far better and do not have to wait for dark. Underneath the very ground of Isengard is at least one great cavern, where these creatures are bred, trained and equipped for warfare."  
  
Everyone in the room looked shocked, apart from Grima. "Surely," the advisor said, as if he were explaining it to a child, "our spies would have seen all this?"  
  
Greenleaf's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Saruman has powerful enchantments on the place," he explained, "you only see what he wants you to see, even though you stand in the grounds. There is also a silencing spell to mask the sounds of his army."  
  
The advisor was about to speak again, but King Theoden cut him off. "Grima, hush. This is indeed worrying news. What do you suggest we do, Greenleaf?"  
  
"For my part, I shall do the job I was sent in to do," Greenleaf told him, "the ring he stole must not be allowed to fall into Sauron's hands."  
  
"Sauron?" Eomer interrupted. "Who is he and what is he to do with it?" He was a young man with honey-blond hair and a tidy beard. He looked somewhat impulsive.  
  
"We have information to say that Saruman is working for him. The ring is part of Sauron's plan."  
  
"And his plan is?" Eomer asked, leaning forward in his chair.  
  
"Middle Earth domination, naturally," Greenleaf said, with the barest hint of humour, "either that or utter annihilation. You get one like him every age or so."  
  
"I suppose you remember them all," Grima commented, his eyes icy though his tone was apparently light.  
  
"You'd be surprised," was all that the Elf said. He never spoke of his age to anyone. It was part of being a secret agent; you told nobody anything, and everybody nothing. "Anyway," he said, moving to the map, "I need to get back inside, and the only way is through the gate. The circle of Isengard is a wall of sheer rock. The guards seem to be fairly stupid, or perhaps they may be easily bribed. Saruman may, of course, have strengthened his security, though I saw few humans and stationing orcs would compromise any secrecy he still believes he has. However, I find it highly likely that he will expect me to return."  
  
"But you will be alone," Aragorn said, "I was sent to assist you, and I shall not shirk the task."  
  
Greenleaf nodded slowly. "He will not be expecting two of us. But we shall have to use all the stealth available to us. I trust you are up to it?"  
  
"I am." The man's answer was tense.  
  
"We can provide backup, if needed," Eomer said, "my Riders can be concealed near Isengard, if you wish. We will provide you with your escape should you be discovered."  
  
"Thank you," Greenelaf accepted the offer, "it may be needed. Searching Orthanc for such a tiny object may take some time and be hazardous."  
  
"I shall be with you, brother," Eowyn stated, "with my sword and shield."  
  
"No," Greenleaf told her. Her uncle was equally adamant, echoing the Elf's sentiment.  
  
"I can fight as well as any man," she said, "I have been trained to all my life. I will fight!"  
  
"No," Greenleaf repeated, and then, realising that he would have to use some form of explanation, "we cannot have everyone at Isengard. Supposing we were defeated, then what of Edoras? Would you leave your people, Lady Eowyn, to the orc-blades?"  
  
"But, uncle, you will remain here, won't you?"  
  
Before King Theoden could speak, Greenleaf continued. "If we fail, word must be sent to Rivendell. A good messenger would be needed." Though Valar forbid that it be a woman who does it, he added silently. There was a short pause.  
  
"Very well," Eowyn said with a sigh, though Greenleaf thought she was giving up far too easily.  
  
"When do you wish to move?" the King asked.  
  
"Tonight," Greenleaf decided, "we don't want to give Saruman anymore time than we have to. If we leave here this afternoon, we should reach Isengard at around dusk. Secrecy is key to this mission. We can't afford to be seen."  
  
"I shall tell my men," Eomer said, "but first we must discuss details. Where should we wait?"  
  
The discussion continued apace. All through, Grima, the King's advisor, sat silent, listening intently. His handkerchief was twisted this way and that between his long fingers, while a sly grin slid across his pasty white features. It was most unpleasant to look at.  
  
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	8. Into Isengard

Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of MESS  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
Disclaimer: Legolas Greenleaf and associated characters belong to JRR Tolkien. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig. The James Bond concept was created, or at least best used by Ian Fleming. A few odd characters and moments belong elsewhere.  
  
Author's Notes: Again, I have to ask you to imagine that Isengard is within an afternoon's ride of Edoras. Otherwise this story would never get anywhere. And, having written Fred and Nobby in, I then had to write them out again painlessly. Or risk a lynching.  
  
I am so sorry that this chapter is so horribly late! I've had a hectic couple of weeks, in which I've been all over the place, so I'm afraid I've got behind in my posting schedule. Yes, I have a schedule. I try and post every Monday, but have failed badly for the last couple of them. And this chapter is unbeta'd, as Julia is away in Germany.  
  
And I am submitting to doing review replies. Being as I have so few reviews, I decided that it would be fairly easy. So, to you who I haven't thanked yet:  
  
ldy imladris: glad you liked it! Thanks for adding me to your favourites.  
  
Idlewild: Thank you! Obviously a well-read person here. Got your Tolkien, your Fleming and your Pratchett. Good one!  
  
Nemo Returning: Where did you get that impression? Sarcasm; that's a very high form of wit. . . I don't think. Hee hee.  
  
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Chapter 8. Into Isengard  
  
The journey back to Isengard was far more friendly. Greenleaf and Aragorn rode most of the way with Eomer and his company of Rohan riders, who they found for the most part to be cheerful and friendly. They had lent Aragorn a horse named Hasufel, as his own was still tired from the long journey. Greenleaf remained on Shadowfax, as the horse was still fresh. The riders seemed somewhat awed to have the Elf in their midst, but he ignored it, being used to that attitude.  
  
"Did you see Grima as we left?" he asked Aragorn, keeping his voice low.  
  
"No," the man replied, "odd really. You'd think that he'd have been there to sneer at us as we left."  
  
"It makes me suspicious," Greenleaf admitted, "I don't trust him. I'd rather not have had him at the council, but saying that would probably have insulted the King."  
  
Aragorn agreed glumly. "Are there any changes we might make?" he asked.  
  
Greenleaf smiled slightly. "The riders would be better waiting to the East of Isengard. I suggested the West on purpose, planning on changing it later. And I purposefully didn't say anything of my plans for when we are inside Isengard. It doesn't do to trust everyone when you're in this line of business."  
  
Aragorn smiled too. "You'd better tell Eomer then," he said.  
  
Greenleaf pushed Shadowfax forward to catch up with Eomer. The man now wore his armour and a tall helmet with a long white plume. He listened carefully as the Elf told him the revised instructions, nodding as the reasons were explained. Greenleaf didn't mention his suspicions about Grima directly, mentioning only the possibility of the plans being heard by a party unknown. The young man soon spread the word among his riders.  
  
It was growing dark as the group left the Gap of Rohan behind and headed up the river. Just as Orthanc came into view, Greenleaf and Aragorn left the riders. They made their way directly towards the stone stronghold. In the gathering dusk, no one noticed one of the back riders, huddled beneath a hooded cloak, break away from the group and follow the pair. Stars began to appear above as they reached Isengard's sheer rock wall.  
  
Greenleaf dismounted and began to whisper to Shadowfax. Aragorn also dismounted.  
  
"What should we do with them?" he asked quietly. "Is there somewhere where we could leave them?"  
  
"Do not worry," the Elf told him, "your Hasufel will stay with Shadowfax, who is too intelligent to be found or seen."  
  
Leaving the horses to graze, the pair crept towards the gates. They both wore dark clothing, along with stealth cloaks from Lothlorien. These enabled them to blend in with the walls, making it almost impossible for any observer to see them. The cloaks were very rare, only ever made in the Golden Wood, and only a few people, mainly Elves, knew of their existence. They were very useful for Greenleaf, and his own had been used on a number of occasions. At most times they appeared only to be rather shabby grey cloaks, but when stealth was needed they could make the wearer all but invisible.  
  
They reached the gates, and it only took Greenleaf a minute to pick the lock. The gate creaked as it swung open. Greenleaf and Aragorn hid behind the wall, one on either side of the gateway. The guard and the groom soon appeared, peering cautiously out of the gates. Without warning, the Elf and the man jumped on them, hauling them out of the stronghold and pinning them to the ground. Greenleaf held his knife to Fred the guard's throat.  
  
"Where are you from?" he asked, not particularly nastily.  
  
"G-Gondor, milord," Fred replied. His face was white.  
  
"Do you have a family?"  
  
"Y-Yes."  
  
"Do you want to see them again?"  
  
"Y-Yes! Please don't kill me, milord!"  
  
"Then leave Isengard now. Take two horses and leave, as quick and as quiet as you can. Understand?"  
  
Fred nodded frantically. Greenleaf released him. The guard's face was honest and stupid, and the Elf knew that he would do as he had been told. Leaving Fred and Nobby to run to the stables, Greenleaf and Aragorn headed towards one of the tower's outhouses. There was nobody in there, so they slipped inside.  
  
"There's somebody following us," Greenleaf whispered. Gesturing for Aragorn to follow him, he stood to one side of the door silently. Moments later, a hooded head poked itself through the frame, looking into the room. Greenleaf grabbed it and pulled its owner into the building. He pushed them down on top of some of the sacks in the corner while Aragorn closed the door. Holding his prisoner down, Greenleaf pulled back the hood to reveal a familiar face.  
  
"Lady Eowyn!" he hissed, feeling angry. "You were meant to stay in Edoras!"  
  
"I wanted to help you, Legolas," she said, pouting slightly, "I couldn't leave you to go in alone."  
  
"I'm not alone," he told her shortly, letting go of her and standing back. She stood, straightening her cloak.  
  
"I couldn't sit around at home when my skills could be used!" she spat, moving directly in front of him.  
  
"And you will probably be needed in Edoras!" he answered, not particularly meaning it.  
  
"Hey, what is this stuff?" Aragorn cut in. Not wanting to be involved in the argument, he had turned away and looked inside the small sacks that lay around. They were full of gritty black powder. He ran some between his fingers, examining it. Greenleaf came over to see.  
  
"Looks like blasting powder," he said, sniffing it cautiously, "yes, definitely. Destructive stuff, I. . . hmm." He broke off, musing silently.  
  
"What is it?" Eowyn asked. He frowned at her.  
  
"Looks like you can be useful after all," he said icily. "How much of it can you carry?" Seeing her blank look, he sighed. "Give me your cloak."  
  
She handed it over, watching as he tied the corners up into a makeshift bag. He put three sacks of powder inside, handed it to her, and then undid his own cloak.  
  
"Here, wear this," he told her, "it'll make you harder to spot."  
  
Loud noises from outside, heading in their direction startled them all. Greenleaf pushed Eowyn out of the small back door just as the orcs burst in.  
  
"Find your brother!" he hissed. "Tell him: 'the river'! The dam, right? And don't be seen!"  
  
He slammed the door and turned to face the orcs. There were five of them, big and ugly, wielding fearsome weapons.  
  
"Keep them busy," Greenleaf muttered to Aragorn, moving to his side, "we need to give Eowyn enough time to get out."  
  
"Right," Aragorn said tensely, "would it be better to take it outside?"  
  
"Maybe." The Elf glanced around. "All that powder's too volatile to fight around." He parried a downward slash from an orc with his knife, disembowelling the creature with another move. He dodged to the side as the carcass fell forward, turning his attention to the next orc. Aragorn had dispatched one with his sword, slicing its head clean off. Together, they pushed the three remaining orcs back through the door. One more fell to their combined blades, then they were out in the courtyard. And in front of them were rather a few more orcs. And also Saruman, with a vicious smile on his face.  
  
The wizard raised his staff, muttering a word under his breath. Greenleaf and Aragorn were knocked out before they could kill another orc.  
  
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	9. ‘You Will Talk, Prince Greenleaf’

Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of MESS  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
Disclaimer: Legolas Greenleaf and associated characters belong to JRR Tolkien. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig. The James Bond concept was created, or at least best used by Ian Fleming. A few odd characters and moments belong elsewhere.  
  
Author's Notes: This chapter contains torture, just so you know. I know it's not an entirely original method, but personally I'm not well- acquainted with torture. I'm working on it. But who says that evil geniuses (like Saruman, not me, honest!) have to be brilliant at torture? Well, Ian Fleming for one. There's some beautiful bits in those books.  
  
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Chapter 9. 'You Will Talk, Prince Greenleaf'  
  
Aragorn awoke alone in a cell. It was almost completely dark, the only light being the dim flickering of a torch outside the door. It barely illuminated the bare stone walls, only allowing the man to see that he was on his own. He rubbed his head irritably.  
  
Oh hell, he thought. This isn't good. Someone's set us up, and I bet it was Grima. And where's Legolas?  
  
He stood and crossed the cell to look out of the window in the door. A large orc was standing outside, guarding the door. Its face creased into a sneer as it saw Aragorn at the door. A rasping sound emitted from its mouth, and Aragorn realised that it was laughing. He gave it a sardonic little smile before returning to examining the door. A long blond hair was caught in the splintery wood, one that Aragorn found familiar.  
  
Must be the cell where Legolas was, he decided, and the thought cheered him. If Legolas can get out then so can I, he thought, bending to examine the lock. It looked fairly old, but still quite solid. He straightened up and stared out into the corridor again, picking idly at the black powder under his fingernails.  
  
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Greenleaf came to when a hand connected with his cheek. Trying to raise his hand to ward off another blow, he found he couldn't. The second slap hit him squarely on the other cheek.  
  
"All right!" he snarled. "I'm awake!"  
  
"Pity," the calm voice of Saruman said, "I was enjoying that. One more for luck, I suppose." He struck Greenleaf again hard.  
  
Blinking, with his head ringing, the Elf focussed his eyes on the room. He was back in the same one where he had eaten with the wizard, the one with the fish tank on one side. But now he was tied to a wooden chair in the centre of the room, his arms bent back behind him. The ropes were tight, and pulling at them just made them tighter still. His tunic had been removed. Saruman stood before the Elf, looking down imperiously.  
  
"Who are you really?" he asked, his face mere inches from Greenleaf's.  
  
True to his training, the Elf said nothing. He scowled back at the wizard, whose eyes narrowed.  
  
"You are the Prince of Mirkwood, that much is apparent," Saruman continued, enunciating each word carefully, "but who else are you? Why are you here? And even more importantly, who sent you!" He had grown quite angry by the last question, and spit flew from his mouth to land on Greenleaf's face.  
  
The Elf still said nothing. Saruman calmed slightly, a wolfish smile curling his lips.  
  
"You will talk, Prince Greenleaf," he said, "I assure you." He walked behind the chair, to a spot where Greenleaf couldn't see him. "Naturally, I was curious when I discovered that an Elf had turned up in Edoras. Particularly after had almost stopped me in Rivendell. So, I invited you round for dinner, where I would play the charming host." He came back round the chair to stare Greenleaf in the face again. "I'll admit I didn't recognise you at first. Your slightly spoiled prince act was very good, but I saw through it. I trust you enjoyed your night here?" He chuckled nastily, then frowned.  
  
"But, of course, I didn't get the answer I wanted. Who is that interested in me? Who has the resources to come after me like this?"  
  
Greenleaf stayed silent, staring straight ahead, apparently ignoring the wizard.  
  
"I'll make it very simple for you," Saruman said slowly, gripping the Elf's chin to force him to look up. "Whom do you work for?"  
  
"Go to hell," Greenleaf told him through gritted teeth. Saruman landed another blow on the Elf's face, still holding his chin so Greenleaf couldn't avoid it. Blood ran from his lip, dripping crimson down his chin and onto his chest.  
  
"Talk!" the wizard spat, dropping the Elf's chin. Greenleaf still refused to say anything, keeping his mouth firmly shut.  
  
"Then you asked for this," Saruman said coldly, walking away again. Greenleaf heard nothing but the wizard's footsteps, crossing the room and returning. Something was pressed against his back and he tensed, wondering what Saruman had in store. He didn't have to wait long.  
  
Crack! A line of bright fire appeared along his bared back. Not expecting this, Greenleaf cried out, his body arching up in spasm. He barely had enough time to recover from the first when the second lash cracked down. This time he bit his lip, not wanting to allow Saruman the satisfaction of hearing his cry out again. He heard the whip whistle through the air before it his him. The pain spread across his back as the wizard continued the beating. He bit his lip harder, determined not to make a sound. When Saruman finally stopped, Greenleaf didn't at first realise; the pain had merged together into one burning sensation.  
  
"Who do you work for?" the wizard repeated, standing before him again. The whip in his hands left blood on the polished floor.  
  
Greenleaf said nothing. He could feel warm liquid trickling down his arms.  
  
"You will tell me sooner or later," Saruman said, "that I can safely tell you. I know that this ring is what you are after." He pulled a small box from his robes; the same small box that Greenleaf had fought him for in Rivendell. Opening it, he held it close before Greenleaf's face, showing him the golden ring.  
  
"This tiny little bit of jewellery. Hardly seems worth it, does it? But this is going to bring all our plans to fruition. This is the final part of my lord's plan. Together, he and I shall rule Middle Earth!" Saruman seemed to have forgotten Greenleaf for the moment, so the Elf decided to bring him back to reality.  
  
"You think Sauron's going to share his rule with you?" he commented, as acidically as he could.  
  
"Of course he will!" Saruman snapped. "But you will be out of the equation by then, Prince Greenleaf. Long out of it. I shall get my information from you, no matter how hard you try and fight it. I will have you in so much pain that you'll be begging me to kill you, just to end the pain. And I may kill you. But then I'll bring you back, so that I can torture and kill you all over again.  
  
"You'll barely know who you are anymore; you'll be so screwed up. And I'll enjoy every last screaming minute of it. You may be a proud, handsome Elf now, but I can, and will, change that. You'll do anything I say eventually. Betray your bosses, wash the dishes, lick my boots, anything. You'll be mine, Prince Greenleaf. A humble cringing servant that nobody'll look twice at."  
  
Greenleaf remained stony-faced throughout Saruman's tirade. It was megalomania, he told himself, the crazed rantings of a deranged psychopath. But still the uneasiness crept in on him, twisting in his gut. "It may sound like a cliché," he said, sounding as blasé as he could, "but you won't get away with it."  
  
Saruman laughed. "Oh, I will. Nobody can stop us. And, just for you, I'm going to send my Uruk-Hai to destroy Edoras. It's a tiresome little place."  
  
"You bastard," Greenleaf growled, "what have they ever done to you?"  
  
"Supported you in your little 'attack'," Saruman said, a smile on his face, "I know all about the riders waiting outside, and where they're waiting."  
  
He walked towards the door, carelessly dropping the whip on the floor as he went. At the door he paused and turned back.  
  
"Don't worry; I'm not leaving you without company." His smile turned into a leer. "You can play with him, Grima, but don't break him yet." He swept out of the room.  
  
From behind Greenleaf there came a chuckle, a nasty, dry-sounding one. Grima, king's advisor and spy, came into view. His smile was malicious.  
  
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Nope, didn't see that coming at all. . . 


	10. A Worm in the Apple

Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of MESS  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
Disclaimer: Legolas Greenleaf and associated characters belong to JRR Tolkien. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig. The James Bond concept was created, or at least best used by Ian Fleming. A few odd characters and moments belong elsewhere.  
  
Author's Notes: Continuing the torture, though (I hope) with a little more imagination. The chapter also contains a very old joke. Rabbit of Iron; recycling puns for the masses.  
  
Nemo Returning: Indeed, Greenleaf and Gríma. Hope this doesn't disappoint.  
  
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Chapter 10. A Worm In The Apple  
  
It didn't take Eowyn long to reach the gates, as all the attention was directed towards Greenleaf and Aragorn. The orcs wouldn't be looking for her; if they knew anything of the plans then they would only be expecting two. But even so, Eowyn was glad of the cloak. It helped her go unseen to the casual glances of any watching. The gates still stood open and she was soon through them. The makeshift bag had already begun to dig into the shoulder she had slung it over. Only a short distance away stood a group of three horses: Shadowfax, Hasufel and Windfola, Eowyn's horse.  
  
"Come, Windfola," she whispered, taking hold of his bridle, "we must find my brother."  
  
She mounted the grey horse and set him galloping towards the West, to the foothills where Eomer and the riders waited. The other two horses remained obediently where they were, occasionally cropping the grass. The moon above was thin, barely illuminating the area.  
  
Windfola was a swift steed, and soon he had carried Eowyn away from Orthanc, to the place where the riders were concealed. I'll show them that I can do something, Eowyn thought, gritting her teeth. Being a woman is such a limitation, despite the fact that generations of the women in my family have been warriors. Damn chivalry! No one will hold me back, not even Legolas. I will show him that I am worthy of his esteem!  
  
"Hail, brother," she called as she approached. Eomer looked surprised.  
  
"Eowyn! Why are you here?" he asked. "We left you in Edoras."  
  
"No time for that," she told him, "Legolas and Aragorn have been discovered in Isengard. Legolas sent you a message: 'The river! The dam!'. I don't know what he meant."  
  
"What dam?" one of the riders asked.  
  
"The one blocking the river, that Saruman constructed and concealed," Eomer said, "though I don't know how that helps. What have you there, sister?"  
  
"Oh, Legolas sent me with it." She pulled out one of the small sacks. "He said it was blasting powder."  
  
Eomer frowned and scratched his chin, rustling his beard. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled. "You know," he said, "I think I know what he meant. How much of that have you got?"  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
"So, when did you become a traitor, Gríma?" Greenleaf hissed, twisting on the chair against the ropes to stare at the man.  
  
"When I decided that it was worth my while," the advisor answered, smirking.  
  
"What's he promised you, then?" Greenleaf asked. "Money? Power? Women? None would go for you willingly. Or maybe you prefer men?"  
  
Angry, Gríma hit the Elf on the back of the head. "That's none of your business!"  
  
Greenleaf laughed. "Whatever he's said, you won't get it. He's only interested in himself."  
  
Gríma was silent for a moment, an intense scowl on his face. "You're very cocky, Elf," he said finally, walking away behind the chair again, "you don't seem to realise what a bad position you're in. You're not going to escape. You'll be kept here until Saruman decides to kill you, and that'll be a long time yet."  
  
As he spoke, he walked back and chuckled wheezily in Greenleaf's ear. "A long time," he continued, "full of pain."  
  
A sharp stinging sensation began to creep its way along one of the whipmarks on Greenleaf's back. Then fingers pressed along, pushing a gritty substance into the wound. The stinging grew, making Greenleaf's eyes water. He squirmed, trying to move away but the ropes held him tightly.  
  
"Hurts, doesn't it, Elf?" Gríma's fingers rubbed harder, re-awakening the pain. "It's salt. Such a simple thing, but so effective when used properly, as I'm sure you'll agree."  
  
"Why are you doing it?" Greenleaf asked, clenching his jaw tightly. "I won't tell you a thing."  
  
Gríma laughed. "Oh no. I leave that to Saruman. He'll have you singing prettily soon, don't you worry." He sprinkled more salt on Greenleaf's back. "I just enjoy this."  
  
"You're sick," Greenleaf told him, earning him another laugh. He set his jaw, determined to ignore the advisor. He'd met his type before, the ones who got off on causing pain and torture. The ones who delighted in drawing out death as long as possible, turning confident, well-trained professional into broken messes, begging for death. They'd never get him like that. He wouldn't be hanging around long enough if he could help it. And if it came to it, he would die by his own hands, no one else's. But it wouldn't come to it. Idly, he wondered where Aragorn was. The man had to be somewhere in the tower.  
  
"I'm getting a good deal for this," Gríma continued, as the burning on Greenleaf's back became excruciating, "power, yes, and money. But do you know the best part, Elf? The most important part for me? I get the beautiful Lady Eowyn. For my wife, whore, whatever. To be always at my beck and call." He laughed harshly.  
  
"Bastard!" Greenleaf said. He turned his head right and spat in Gríma's face. "Nobody deserves that!"  
  
A slap from Gríma sent his head facing front again, but even as it did so he caught a quick glimpse of movement outside the door. All he could discern was a brief flash of a grey cloak. Then Gríma's hand came down across the back of his head again.  
  
"She does," the advisor said bitterly, "she repulses all my advances, spurns me even. And she prefers outsiders like you."  
  
"Do you blame her?" Greenleaf asked sarcastically. He turned towards the right again, hoping that Gríma would move round. "I mean, look at you."  
  
"What's wrong with me?" Gríma said in a low voice, facing Greenleaf. "We're not all wondrously fair beings like you holier-than-thou Elves." He gripped the Elf's face between his hands. "Just because you're so perfect, the rest of us have to try and match up."  
  
"Oh," Greenleaf replied, sounding nonchalant, "nothing to do with your tendency to support the bad guys, then."  
  
Gríma's grip tightened. "You. . ." he spat, but got no further. A fist connected with his head and sent him to the ground.  
  
"I was waiting for him to turn his back to the door," Aragorn said, with a grin.  
  
"I know," Greenleaf said, "good timing though. Any earlier and you'd have had to have dealt with Saruman too."  
  
"I know," Aragorn answered, "he was on his way down as I was coming up." He moved behind the Elf to untie his bonds. "Ouch. That looks bad."  
  
"It's all right," Greenleaf passed over the subject. "How'd you get out?"  
  
"They stuck me in the same cell you were in last night. I managed to explode the lock with the blasting powder I still had under my fingernails. It's potent stuff, all right. The orc on guard came straight through the door, stupid thing. I tripped it up and chopped its head off with its own sword."  
  
"Good job," Greenleaf said, standing up. He gasped, catching the back of his chair for balance as his head span. "I'm fine," he told Aragorn, who made as if to support him. "We need to get after Saruman. He's got the ring."  
  
"What about this?" the man asked, pointing to Gríma, who was crawling towards the door.  
  
Greenleaf strode over and hauled the advisor up by his collar, holding him up so his toes were just above the floor. Gríma's pale face was whiter than usual, and sweating. He trembled, grasping uselessly at the Elf's hand.  
  
"Please," he pleaded, "you don't want to hurt me."  
  
"Yes, I do," Greenleaf said, "give me a hand, Aragorn."  
  
Together, the man and the Elf dragged Gríma across the room. With a quick heave and a push, they dropped him into the large fish tank. He had enough time for a quick scream before being pulled under by Saruman's pet 'fish'. The creatures were quick to begin ripping him apart with large, sharp teeth.  
  
"You know what's worth than finding a worm in your apple?" Greenleaf said conversationally. "Finding half a worm."  
  
Aragorn agreed, and they watched the advisor thrashing around in the tank for a little longer. Soon, he was still, his eyes bulging sightlessly before they were torn out and eaten.  
  
"It's almost sad really," Aragorn commented, "his ultimate purpose in life was to become fishfood."  
  
Greenleaf smiled. "And that's all the jokes we can get out of that."  
  
::::::::::::::::::: 


	11. A Watery Grave

Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of MESS  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
Disclaimer: Legolas Greenleaf and associated characters belong to JRR Tolkien. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig. The James Bond concept was created, or at least best used by Ian Fleming. A few odd characters and moments belong elsewhere.  
  
Author's Notes: I'll apologise in advance for the "knife work" joke. I've been wanting to use it ever since I read that line in Two Towers. And I've borrowed random information from Outsiders #3. Who says you never learn anything from comics?  
  
This is the penultimate chapter, ladies and gentlemen. That's right, the end is in sight. Next week, to be precise. But, well, it might not be quite so much of an end as you might think. You'll just have to wait and see.  
  
Damn it, Jackson! You put Saruman back in the film, boy! He can kick arse with the best of them (see later in this chapter). Christopher Lee's going to get you, you know. He didn't play all those evil parts for nothing. . .  
  
Reviewer replies: Shadowfax: Glad you think it's great. Unfortunately, my schedule doesn't allow me to get the time to type up two chapters a week.  
  
Idlewild: Almost Dr No-ish? Hey, you read my mind. That's exactly what I had in mind. You might notice another nice Bond quote in this chapter that I've 'borrowed'.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
Chapter 11. A Watery Grave  
  
They ran down the twisted stairway after leaving the room. Gríma's dead body had watched them balefully as they found their weapons, floating in the tank and turning as the fish bit at his remains. Aragorn had given the ex-advisor a cheery little wave as he went out the door. There was, predictably, no response.  
  
The stairs were narrow and worn, making them awkward at a fast pace. Any slip would quickly result in a painful and ignominious fall. Greenleaf, as an Elf, was surefooted, never missing a step, while Aragorn found himself dropping behind. They passed the door to the cells, barely noticing that it was empty and silent. Their feet carried them down and down in dizzying spirals. Aragorn had almost lost sight of Greenleaf around the curve of the tower when he saw the Elf stop. He came up behind him.  
  
"This is the limits of the silencing spell," Greenleaf told him, "it's very noisy beyond this point. Be prepared for it."  
  
He walked forward, and Aragorn followed. The noise hit his ears solidly, catching him by surprise despite the warning. They both stopped, Greenleaf leaning momentarily against the wall. Looking at his companion's pointed ears, Aragorn wondered if it affected him more. Elven hearing was known for being sensitive. And the wounds on his back -which Aragorn could see well, being behind him- appeared to be wearying the Elf to an extent.  
  
"Come on," Greenleaf said, standing straight again. He started the descent, giving no outward signs of pain or fatigue as he ran. Aragorn followed.  
  
It wasn't long before they reached the place where the cavern opened out in front of them. Aragorn had had some idea of what to expect, but he hadn't imagined anything on such a huge scale. The pair concealed themselves in the shadows, watching Saruman addressing his ranks of orcs. The wizard stood not far down from them.  
  
"Edoras will fall!" he shouted. "You shall raze it to the ground! The people shall die beneath your blades!" The orcs all roared their approval, discordant shouts tearing from their harsh mouths. "Tonight," Saruman continued, shaking his fist, "you shall taste man-flesh!"  
  
The roar grew louder. Aragorn hoped that he and Greenleaf were concealed enough. He knew he was; his stealth cloak hid him, but looking over, he could see Greenleaf's pale skin against the rock, marked against the back. Though orcs usually were not known for their eyesight; years of living in dark caves had done that.  
  
"Now go!" Saruman went on. "Form your ranks and march to fight!" The roar became deafening.  
  
"Aragorn," Greenleaf whispered, suddenly appearing beside the man, "we must jump Saruman as he comes up the stairs."  
  
"What about the orcs?" Aragorn asked. "There are far too many for us to fight alone, even with Eomer's help, but we cannot allow them to attack Edoras."  
  
Greenleaf looked up, to where the sky was visible through the hole in the cavern roof. "We must hope that Eowyn does what I told her."  
  
"Which was?" Aragorn asked, but received no answer. Instead, he got Greenleaf's bow and quiver thrust into his hands. "What?"  
  
"You'll need to keep off any orcs," the Elf told him, helping him to strap the quiver on, "it'll be a close-quarter fight with Saruman. That means knife work."  
  
"Knife work if you can get it," Aragorn quipped.  
  
Greenleaf smiled. "You're getting there, Man. Soon have you making off-hand remarks like a pro."  
  
They were interrupted by the ascent of Saruman up the stairs. Greenleaf leapt straight at him, knife in one hand, and landed hard against the wizard. They fell back down the stairs, bumping across the stair edges, stopping at the platform from where Saruman had addressed his army. Greenleaf pressed his knife to Saruman's throat.  
  
"Give me the ring," he growled.  
  
"Never!" Saruman spat, throwing the Elf off him.  
  
Greenleaf sprawled to the floor, but regained his feet almost immediately. He faced Saruman warily.  
  
"Where's Gríma?" the wizard asked, not sounding particularly concerned.  
  
"He disagreed with something that ate him," Greenleaf said with a grin.  
  
"I thought we said no more jokes on that," Aragorn cut in from behind him. He had by this time made his way down the stairs.  
  
"Too good to resist," Greenleaf replied. He continued eyeing his opponent.  
  
"You can't win, Prince Greenleaf," Saruman said, frowning deeply.  
  
"Oh, don't start that again," Greenleaf told him, "I've had enough of megalomaniac ego-powered rants fro today."  
  
"I-," Saruman began, but stopped as a loud, deep sound became heard in the cavern. It was a fast, rushing sound, growing louder by the second. "What?" Saruman asked.  
  
Greenleaf only smiled as water began cascading over the lip of the hole in the roof. It poured down, creating great plumes of steam where it hit the furnaces. The orcs scattered, any form of order they were in sent into disorganisation. The amount of water was huge, soon covering the rocky floor and rising steadily.  
  
"What have you done?" Saruman asked, aghast.  
  
"Blown the dam," Greenleaf answered with a satisfied smirk, "handy stuff that blasting powder of yours."  
  
"Damn you!" the wizard hissed. "I have been working on this for years!"  
  
"Evil never pays," Greenleaf chided him mockingly.  
  
Down below, the waters continued to rise. Orcs splashed around, frantically attempting to save themselves. But due to their high muscle density and low body fat, it was near impossible for them to swim. Their weighty armour and weapons only dragged them down further. Saruman glanced at them, only to see his army drowning.  
  
Greenleaf saw and took advantage of this. He rushed the wizard, grabbing his staff arm and pushing it away. He held Saruman against the low wall at the edge of the platform, reaching towards the white robes. They struggled together, matching strength for strength. Saruman braced his legs apart, pushing his lower body into the wall to keep his balance. With a quick move, he got the end of his long staff behind Greenleaf's knees and yanked. Taken by surprise, the Elf stumbled, giving Saruman time to heave him over the wall. Aragorn saw, but was too involved with felling the orcs who had made it up the stairs, using Greenleaf's bow and arrows.  
  
Greenleaf fell, but still managing to reach up. He grasped Saruman's arm, heaving him over the precipice after him. They dropped together, each trying to get the other. Greenleaf hit the water awkwardly, wrenching his leg and submerging beneath the disturbed surface. He resurfaced later, gasping for breath. Saruman was beside him, waiting. As soon as the Elf's head broke water, hair over his face, the wizard pulled him back under, barely giving him chance for a breath. He dragged Greenleaf down deeper, then turned on him with his fists, trying to knock what little wind was left out of him.  
  
The blows were punishing, but Greenleaf gave as good as he got. He knocked the staff from Saruman's hand, allowing it to sink to the bottom. His knife flashed in his slender hand, heading like a shark for Saruman. The wizard went for the hand, trying to force it away. Both had equal determination though, and the struggle threatened to go on until both were out of air. Feeling his head start to spin, Greenleaf gave a huge effort. The knife slashed across Saruman's throat, sending forth a great bloom of red blood. Air bubbled out of the slit windpipe. The wizard went limp. Greenleaf wasted no time in finding the box in the billowing robes, and tucking it into his own breeches. He dropped the body; it floated slowly down as his vision began to black around the edges.  
  
::::::::::::::::::: 


	12. The Dawning Day

Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of MESS  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
Disclaimer: Legolas Greenleaf and associated characters belong to JRR Tolkien. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig. The James Bond concept was created, or at least best used by Ian Fleming. A few odd characters and moments belong elsewhere.  
  
Author's Notes: There is now a general title for this fic: "Ringfinger". Oh the joys of punning on Bond titles.  
  
Reviewer replies: theinklesspen: [blushes] Awesome? Thank you! I'm so glad you found it.  
  
Idlewild: Correct! Despite the fact they stuck that bit on the front of a different film. I'm having fun too. And I'm still churning it out (see below).  
  
Nemo Returning: I've always loved that joke. Hee hee.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
Chapter 12. The Dawning Day  
  
Aragorn stared anxiously at the water where the wizard and the Elf had vanished. All the orcs within distance were dead, either drowned or shot with arrows. He began to run down the stairs, towards the fast-rising water's edge. The water was black with orc-corpses and shadow, impenetrable.  
  
"Legolas!" he called, terrified for the fate of his friend. There was nothing. The water still poured in, lapping at the toes of Aragorn's boots.  
  
Then, suddenly, bubbles shot up. Greenleaf surfaced, throwing his hair back and taking a huge choking breath. Spotting Aragorn, who was now up to his knees in the water though he hadn't moved, he began to swim in his direction. The man went up a couple of steps, though the water was rising faster and faster. Greenleaf's strokes began to flag, showing his exhaustion, but he kept going. Aragorn was being forced up and up to stop himself being swept off his feet by the rushing waters that Greenleaf fought. Foam hissed around them both, though it went mostly unheard against the roar of the falling water.  
  
Aragorn had almost reached the stone platform when Greenleaf finally reached the steps. The man helped him pull himself out, and then hauled him up the steps. They collapsed for a moment on the platform. Greenleaf spat out some water. He was still gasping from the physical exertion of fighting the swirling waters.  
  
"Saruman?" Aragorn managed to ask.  
  
"Dead," Greenleaf told him, "but I got the ring." He pulled out the box, opening it to show the man the ring.  
  
"It looks kind of small and insignificant, doesn't it?" Aragorn said.  
  
"Hmm." Greenleaf was non-committal. He jumped when he felt the water creeping up round him. "We'd better move."  
  
They raced up round the stairs, occasionally slipping on wet boots. Aragorn was sprayed every now and then by water from Greenleaf's hair. The water behind them charged up after the pair, tagging their footsteps. Finally, the door was before them. It was shut, and proved to be locked as they tried it. Long-dammed river water began to circle their feet. Greenleaf re- sheathed his knife, which had still been in his hand.  
  
"Got a lockpick?" he asked. "Mine was in my tunic."  
  
Aragorn handed one over, looking worried. Greenleaf set to work with the small piece of metal. The water was at their knees, then their waists. Then it was over the lock, causing the Elf to curse. He continued to work at the lock, despite the difficulties, and finally had it unlocked. It took both of them to heave the door open against the flood, forcing it forward against the weight of the water. The entire circle of Isengard was filled.  
  
"We'll have to swim for it!" Greenleaf yelled, moving forward. "We can't wade; the current's too strong and the water too deep!"  
  
"Oh boy," Aragorn said, following. He plunged in, wishing that it wasn't so cold. Dawn had passed, leaving the sky pale, though there was no sun for warmth. Aragorn felt his muscles grow icy as he tried to move them. Determination won through, and he and Greenleaf battled their way across in a haphazard fashion. The current would pull them off-course, while they would strive to correct their direction. It was wearying; always two steps forward and one step back, figuratively speaking. They swam now side by side, keeping stroke. The waters still poured into Isengard from the river.  
  
It took endurance and willpower, but the pair reached the gates eventually. The waters spilled out through the opening, spreading around the base of the wall. Greenleaf and Aragorn crawled out of the water, grateful to be on dry ground. The advance of the water was sluggish outside the stronghold. Elf and man fell to the ground, arms and legs rebelling against the thought of further movement. Greenleaf lay on his back, ignoring his wounds.  
  
"I ought to say," he admitted, "I didn't think you'd be any good. A lot of men I've met haven't been."  
  
Aragorn grinned. "Thanks," he said, "but I was brought up by the Elves in Rivendell. And I've got Elven blood in my heritage."  
  
"So it's not surprising then," Greenleaf said, then laughed. "And there's me thinking that you were doing awfully well for a mere man."  
  
They both lay there in an easy companionship. The sun was just beginning to rise from behind the clouds, and the day was promising to be a good one. Made even better by the defeat of Saruman and the destruction of his orc army. Greenleaf closed his eyes as the sun's first rays spread across his face from the East.  
  
"Here comes Eomer, and his riders," Aragorn said, gazing off in the same direction.  
  
"Oh, good," Greenleaf replied, "I can get my cloak back."  
  
"You're cold?" Aragorn asked with a small laugh. Greenleaf scowled half- heartedly.  
  
"You know I'm not," he said, "but I'm damned if I let the Lady Eowyn keep it. There're not many of those around." He raised two fingers to his lips and whistled piercingly.  
  
"Hey, warn me if you're going to do that!" Aragorn squinted off to where hoofbeats were now approaching from. Shadowfax and Hasufel came galloping up to the pair. The riders of Rohan arrived shortly after. Greenleaf and Aragorn stood, albeit slowly, to meet them.  
  
"Good morning," Eomer hailed them as he rode up, "I hope you have completed your mission?"  
  
"Of course," Greenleaf told him, smiling, "would you expect otherwise? Saruman is dead, and the object I was sent for is in my possession."  
  
"My sister gave us your message," the horseman said, "though we weren't sure at first what you meant."  
  
"Well, it look like you got it," Aragorn said, indicating the water behind them.  
  
Eomer laughed. "And it worked better than expected," he answered, "but you two look rather wet and tired. I think we must ride for Edoras."  
  
"We can tell uncle how close he came to having orcs for house guests!" Eowyn exclaimed.  
  
"I bet he'll be glad," Greenleaf said as he mounted Shadowfax, "they've got terrible manners."  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
"So, we're free of Saruman's presence?" King Theoden asked, after the whole story had been reported to him. Greenleaf nodded.  
  
"How can I ever thank you?" the King effused, clasping the Elf's hand. "You've saved all my people!"  
  
"Just doing my job," Greenleaf said, "and I wasn't alone."  
  
Behind him, Aragorn, Eomer and Eowyn smiled. They were all gathered again in the map room. It was almost lunchtime.  
  
"I still can't believe that Gríma was a spy for that accursed wizard!" King Theoden spat.  
  
"I can," Eowyn said, hands on her hips, "he was such a leech. He was hoping that he'd get to marry me."  
  
"My poor niece!" Theoden said, hurrying to her side and hugging her. She rolled her eyes, but accepted it.  
  
"What will you do now, Legolas?" she asked, after her uncle released her.  
  
Greenleaf was not overly surprised at the question. He looked at the lady, seeing her hopeful face, pretty despite the smears of dirt. She didn't look like she wanted him to leave.  
  
"I must return," he replied, "I will have more work to do." He watched her face fall. No complications, he reminded himself. He would be needed in Lothlorien. And he didn't need a mortal woman; he was an Elf. He had all the time in the world.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
It was the down periods that he hated about the job. The long slow days when nothing happened, when he sat in his office filling out paperwork. The healers had declared him fit for work only two days before, and he had been back as soon as he could. Even the paperwork was better than sitting around doing nothing. But that was beginning to pall. Greenleaf was best at his job when out of the office, out among the people. That was when he loved it.  
  
He almost wished he were back in Edoras, among the men and their horses. But that would become more complicated, and attachments would form that were unwanted. No woman was worth it; Greenleaf remained married to his job. It was his first priority.  
  
He reminded himself of this as he shuffled another pile of paper. No matter about the tedious times; there would always be adventurous, dangerous missions for him to fulfil, just not all the time. There would occasionally be times in the middle of these when he wished that he were safe behind a desk, but not often. And he never heeded them. He stifled a yawn and reached for the next sheet.  
  
He never got there. There was a knock at the door and an Elf stuck his head in.  
  
"Greenleaf? G wants to see you in her office. She's got another job for you." He vanished again.  
  
Greenleaf stood slowly, idly taking the time to place a paperweight on top of the sheets of paper. He stretched out his arms languorously, then began the walk to G's office.  
  
The End.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
Well! Here we are. The end of the road in fic terms. Thank you for all the continued support of reviews. Also, thanks for anyone who's been reading but not reviewed. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It hasn't been my most popular fic in terms of readers, but it has been one of my favourites to write. It is certainly my longest so far. And so, that's it. So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye. That's the end of 'Legolas Greenleaf: Agent of MESS'.  
  
Or is it?  
  
Sources close to me (ie, myself) would be suggesting that the adventures of the Elven secret agent are far from over. Could it be. . .a sequel?  
  
In a word, yes. The plot bunnies have grown quite vicious and demanding, and writing has already commenced. Pages of plans in illegible, hasty handwriting litter my desk and my brain is plagued with Bond title puns. No overall title as of yet, but there will be. Here's a brief summary. . .  
  
Following an attack on the Golden Wood, the fearless secret agent Legolas Greenleaf must go with a team, first into the deeps of Moria, then into the evil heart of Mordor itself. Prejudices must be overcome, friendships forged and enemies killed, all in the Elf's inimitable style.  
  
There now. Are you all on the edge of your seats? You'd better sit back, this will take me some time to write. It definitely won't be up until next year, but be assured, I am working flat out for you. The chapters are going to be twice as long as most of the ones here. But in the meantime, he's a few taster moments that may or may not appear in the final version. . .  
  
"See their badges," Haldir said, pointing to a red mark on one of the orcs' skin.  
  
"A red eye," Greenleaf breathed, realising its significance, "Sauron."  
  
#  
  
"A Dwarf?" Greenleaf asked, unable to stop himself.  
  
"An Elf?" the Dwarf asked, at the same moment.  
  
#  
  
"Legolas lives dangerously -he expects to kill or be killed." She patted Aragorn's hand gently. "I'm only sorry you had to get caught up in it."  
  
#  
  
A fanfic in many chapters, penned by your humble author, the Rabbit of Iron. A star-studded cast including:  
  
Legolas Greenleaf  
  
Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and Gimli, son of Gloin  
  
Galadriel, Gandalf, Haldir, Rumil, Orophin and many more besides!  
  
A multitude of bad guys!  
  
Exotic locations, including the fabulous Mines of Moria!  
  
Coming soon to a website near you. . .as soon as it's written! 


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